


To Walk a Mile...

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hanzo's massive cowboy kink, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Team as Family, masturbation addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: “Just leave me,” Jesse says quietly.“I will do no such thing.” Hanzo lifts Jesse’s arm, and Jesse pulls back. He tries to, at least, but Hanzo holds him tighter.“Go! We can’t both go through and I’m a dead man already.”“Far from it,” Hanzo growls, draping Jesse's arm over his shoulders. Jesse doesn't resist this time. “We will go through together, consequences be damned.”“When we end up as one freakish person with two heads, I’m sure you’ll change your tune,” Jesse mutters. He coughs, and for a moment looks like he is about to pass out.Hanzo looks at the teleporter, and the edges are starting to fade away. He wraps his hand around Jesse's wrist tightly, holding his breath as they step through.Then, everything goes black.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 221
Kudos: 465





	1. It Could Have Been Much Worse

**Author's Note:**

> a.k.a Incredibly Thirsty Hanzo
> 
> I know this is 18 months past when I said I would post this, and I know I'd save it for #100, but given 2020 I'm not even sure I'm going to make it to 100 fics this year so here it is. Aside from the constant guilt that I should have posted this 18 months ago, I do hope this provides a little brightness in your day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most biggest of thanks to robocryptid for betaing

Hanzo has a strict routine he adheres to when settling down for the night. 

He starts with a shower, so hot it is almost scalding. When he is done, he brushes his teeth. On particularly strenuous days, like today spent training in his gi, he applies moisturiser to his exposed skin and massages his legs with juniper oil to relieve tension. He has chamomile tea to calm his mind, thinking about the events of the day, and when he is finished, he climbs into bed.

Taking a breath, Hanzo lies down on his back. He closes his eyes, settles in, and like always, his thoughts are instantly drawn to Jesse. 

In the height of summer, today was the hottest day of the year so far. Unfortunately for everyone on base, today was also scheduled drills on the training range. Over the course of the day, as the air grew hotter and more humid, Jesse started losing layers of clothing. He stripped off his serape, then his chest plate, and finally his shirt, leaving him in his undershirt. It was white, thin enough to see the darkened patches of hair on his chest and abdomen. Tight enough to very clearly make out his pecs. 

Hanzo cannot think of another day where he has ever performed as badly as he did today. Luckily for him, his worst is just shy of perfect so no one noticed or said anything, but _thanks_ to Jesse, he spent the day battling an erection. His cock twitched with each movement, absolutely begging to be grabbed. 

Things only got worse when Jesse complained about the oppressive humidity for the umpteenth time. Lena, frustrated, dumped an entire bottle of water over his head. There were laughs from everyone minus Hanzo. Time slowed down when Jesse shook his hair out. It froze when he pulled his hair back and looked down at himself, drawing Hanzo’s attention to his visible nipples, hardening with each passing moment. 

It was a miracle that Hanzo did not come there and then.

Hanzo’s cock twitches, and he takes himself in his fist. He completes this last part of his nightly ritual, masturbating to shed the lingering hints of energy, enough to lull him into sleep. 

It is a habit he developed in his early twenties when the pressures of University and the clan reached critical mass. Turning to a single moment of pleasure to forget the day, it was enough to relieve the stress and get a good night’s sleep. He craved it after that, day in and day out, and it became part of his routine. The days he does not have the opportunity, whether from injury or on a mission, he simply cannot sleep. 

What _was_ a normal part of his routine has since become an obsession. No one told him that the very person he had in mind as his ideal mate would be here. No one warned him that an incredibly attractive man who dresses like a cowboy every moment he can—who takes it very seriously—would be living on this base.

And why would they? No one knows Hanzo has a cowboy kink the size of the Grand Canyon. 

Hanzo has been an agent of Overwatch for just over a year now, eating, training, relaxing beside Jesse. They have become good friends, but Hanzo wishes for more—much, _much_ more. He has been lusting for Jesse since day one, wanting to take him at his sweatiest, pin him against the wall, get drunk from his smell, taste him, suck him off and fuck him senseless. 

Moaning, Hanzo tightes his grip and tugs a little faster. His thoughts shift to today, imagining a scenario where it is just the two of them on base, where he would have the opportunity to take Jesse, dripping wet from pouring water on himself, jumping him, licking the little rivulets of water off his skin, pinching his nipples and giving him the best, most desperate handjob he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing—

With a final moan, a hard twist of his pierced nipple, Hanzo comes. He imagines kissing Jesse as he floats down from the high, tasting the mingled whiskey and cigar smoke on his tongue. A slow, gentle after-sex kiss, breathing in his air, foreheads pressed together. The perfect conclusion to sex.

Taking a breath, Hanzo opens his eyes, settling on the small pool of come in the centre of his abdomen, then the single drip ready to roll off him. He grabs his towel from beside him, wiping it up before laying it over his stomach. 

He feels the drowsiness already settling over him like a warm blanket, and he quickly wipes himself up, dropping the towel to the floor before pulling up the sheet. The last thing he thinks about before he drifts into unconsciousness is getting absolutely smothered by Jesse’s delicious pecs.

* * *

_“I got three of ‘em, on my six.”_

Inhale, draw.

_“Cowboy, I’m coming to you! My mech can get me there in thirty seconds.”_

Exhale, loose.

Hanzo watches the target drop to the ground, arrow clean through their neck. They are dead before they fall.

_“Two now. Don’t worry, Song; looks like my guardian angel’s lookin’ out for me.”_

_“What about me?"_ Tracer's voice crackles through the comms. _"I’m blinking between five of these tossers, I could use a hand!”_

“I cannot see you, Tracer,” Hanzo replies. He scans the area, unsure of Lena's current location. In the distance, he can hear the faint sound of pulse fire.

But as a person enters his field of vision, heading in Jesse's direction, he knows it's another tail.

_“Bugger me sideways! Bloody fat lot of good you are, Hanzo!”_

Inhale, draw. Exhale, loose.

“There is not much I can do if I cannot see you. One more now, McCree. I hope I have not made it too easy for you.”

_“Symmetra here. Fall back and meet at the rendezvous point, I will have a teleporter ready for you.”_

Hanzo scans Jesse’s last known location and content that no more are following him, he stands, taking the stairwell to the main road.

 _“‘Bugger me sideways?'”_ Jesse chuckles, and Hanzo cannot help but smile, feeling a little bloom of warmness in his chest. He loves that little playful laugh. _“What does that even mean?”_

_“Usually used to exclaim astonishment, or in this case—Ha! Take that, you wankers! In this case, my extreme dissatisfaction that Hanzo left me to fend for myself.”_

“You are clearly competent enough to take them out on your own,” Hanzo says.

_“‘Cause they can’t track me.”_

Hanzo can see Lena's wink in his mind with those words.

 _“Hold up,”_ Jesse says. _“Hanzo, was that an insult?”_

Hanzo smirks. “It is whatever you think it is.”

The comms fill with laughter, and Hanzo sees Hana’s mech flying high up in the sky. He waves when it waves, picking up his pace as it passes him.

_“Fuck shit asshole.”_

Hanzo stops in his tracks as fear settles in the pit of his stomach. “Jesse? What is wrong?”

Jesse sucks in a breath, it tapers off into a heavy sigh. _“I’m hit.”_

“What is your position?”

 _“Right where you left me—"_ The telltale sound of Jesse's revolver echoes off the buildings, Hanzo’s heart hammers in his chest. “ _And I got the fuck.”_

“Stay where you are,” Hanzo says, looking in the direction Jesse is. He is in an alleyway with two points of entry, and Hanzo is sure he is not about to be ambushed. He only had one other person on him. “I am coming to you.”

Jesse chuckles, but it's cut short with a long hiss. _“Don’t have a choice in the matter, got shot in the leg.”_ He groans, pained, and Hanzo backtracks, heading towards Jesse's position. “ _Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”_

Hana’s voice crackles in the comms, _“I can get to you in no time, but it’s a shame you’re too big to fit inside my mech.”_

 _“And I don’t especially fancy hanging off the roof in my current condition.”_ Jesse groans again. _“This fuckin’ hurts.”_

“I will be at your position in two minutes,” Hanzo says, rounding a corner. 

_“Symmetra here. You must hurry, the teleporter will close in less than five minutes.”_

Hanzo sprints now, anxiety settles heavily in the pit of his stomach. He will get to Jesse and he will bring him back. They will not get stuck in Reykjavik, deep within Talon-controlled territory.

 _“Hanzo?”_ Lena’s worry echoes through the comms. _“If you’re sure you don’t need my assistance, I’ll wait for you at the rendezvous point.”_

“I will manage, Lena. Get to safety.” 

Turning into the alleyway, Hanzo sees Jesse’s boot from behind a dumpster. He races over, Jesse has his gun aimed at him, and Hanzo raises his hands. 

Jesse lowers his gun, a thin smile spreads on his lips. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” 

Hanzo smiles back before turning his attention to the wound on Jesse’s leg, high on his thigh. He is bleeding out, and it is quite profuse. The exit wound is good news, but much damage has already been done. 

“How are you feeling?”

“A little woozy, but I think I’m just exhausted,” Jesse replies slowly, his words slurred.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Hanzo opens the pocket on his quiver, pulling out an old hair scarf. He loops it around Jesse’s leg tightly, tying it in a knot. 

“We have to get you to the teleporter,” Hanzo says, lifting up Jesse’s arm to drape over his shoulder. He looks at Jesse, nods, and helps him to stand.

“Fuck,” Jesse groans, pushing all of his weight on Hanzo. “I think it's hit something major.”

“Well, if it hit the artery...” Hanzo pauses, swallows the lump in his throat and looks at Jesse. “You would probably be dead already.”

“Grim thought,” Jesse breathes. “C’mon, we got a teleporter to catch.”

They hobble as fast as they can, taking the same route Hanzo took to get to him. It's slow going, but Hanzo doesn't _let_ himself think about not making it. They will make it, they will get out. 

_“Hanzo, what is your position?”_ Symmetra asks. _“You do not have long.”_

“We will be there in a minute,” Hanzo replies. He glances at Jesse, and he is starting to look pale. “Can you hold on?”

To his credit, Jesse smiles. “With you right beside me? Yeah. But you know we gotta go through the teleporter separately.”

“I know,” Hanzo says, more for Jesse’s sake. There is no way he is leaving his side, especially with as tired as he looks now. 

They step onto the football field, and Hanzo can see Lena standing by the teleporter. She waves when she sees them, blinking to meet them halfway. 

“I told the others to go through,” Lena says, lifting Jesse's other arm and draping it over her shoulders. “They're waiting with Dr. Ziegler on the other side.”

 _“You must hurry, the path is closing,”_ Symmetra says.

“Go,” Hanzo says to Lena, jerking his head to the teleporter. “I have him.”

Lena looks between him and Jesse, nods, almost uncertain, before slowly stepping away. Jesse's entire weight shifts onto Hanzo again and Lena gives them a final nod, backstepping through the teleporter. It shimmers blue, and Hanzo can see it start to destabilise.

“Can you walk?” Hanzo asks.

Jesse nods. He takes back his arm and stands still for a moment, then sways unsteadily. Hanzo catches him, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist.

“Just leave me,” Jesse says quietly.

“I will do no such thing.” Hanzo lifts Jesse’s arm, and Jesse pulls back. He tries to, at least, but Hanzo holds him tighter.

“Go! We can’t both go through and I’m a dead man already.”

“Far from it,” Hanzo growls, draping Jesse's arm over his shoulders. Jesse doesn't resist this time. “We will go through together, consequences be damned.”

“When we end up as one freakish person with two heads, I’m sure you’ll change your tune,” Jesse mutters. He coughs, and for a moment looks like he is about to pass out.

Hanzo looks at the teleporter, and the edges are starting to fade away. He wraps his hand around Jesse's wrist tightly, holding his breath as they step through.

Then, everything goes black.

* * *

Hanzo hears the quiet murmur of conversation. It’s dampened as if he is underwater and it pulls him from unconsciousness. 

As the rest of his senses start to kick in, he feels like he has been hit by a truck. His head is pounding, he feels so nauseous he is on the verge of vomiting, and when he opens his eyes, he has to immediately close them because the light is too bright. He tries to speak, but his mouth feels like it is full of cotton. He wiggles his toes and moves his arms, and everything works as it should, so that is a positive at least. 

He tries opening his eyes slowly, and the photosensitivity is not as bad. It is enough to settle on Genji on his left, and Angela on his right. After a moment the static starts to fade, and he looks at Genji again when he hears him speak.

“...are okay. Everything is okay.”

“What happened?” Hanzo asks. Although his voice comes out in a whisper, it sounds harsh and rough to his ears.

“There was…" Genji pauses and sighs. "There was an incident.”

It takes Hanzo a moment for the gravity of those words to truly settle on him, and when they do, he feels his stomach lurch. He presses his hand to his mouth and closes his eyes, willing the wave of nausea to pass. He tries to remember what happened, and when the image of Jesse sitting by that dumpster, bleeding out enters his mind, he sits up. He tries to, at least, but Angela and Genji push him back down. 

“Jesse...” Hanzo looks left, then right, but the curtains are drawn on all sides. “Where is Jesse?”

“Jesse is fine,” Angela says softly. “What do you remember?”

“I…” Hanzo closes his eyes again and recalls every detail of the mission, from the briefing beforehand, the ambush, going back for Jesse and rushing back to the teleporter. “It was closing and there was no way Jesse could get through on his own, so we went through together.”

“And nothing after?”

Hanzo tries to focus on after, stepping through and into the awaiting shuttle, but can't remember anything. “No. Did I pass out?”

Angela looks at Genji, and their eyes lock. They hold the stare for a few moments, then Genji shrugs as Angela shakes her head. 

"Whatever it is you are trying to decide," Hanzo growls, frustration starting to rise like bile, "I deserve to know."

Genji takes a breath and holds it, then nods, small and subtle. Sighing, Angela gives Hanzo her full attention. 

“We almost lost you,” she says.

“Almost lost…” Hanzo tries to sit up again, and this time they let him. “Stop being so crypt—” He looks at his arm. His left arm. Or what _should_ be his left arm, but there is nothing there. His arm is gone. Nausea rises again, and he swallows it down. “What…"

He feels hands on his shoulders again and follows the arms up to Genji. “Hanzo, calm down. Please.”

Confusion gives way to anger, and he is sick of them telling him to calm down. “What was this incident? I demand that you tell me!”

“Okay.” Genji pulls his hands away slowly and takes a seat, wheeling it closer to the bed. “The teleporter,” he starts, staring into the empty space where Hanzo's arm should be. When he looks up at him, he tries to smile but Hanzo can see it's tired, weary. Hanzo wonders if he’s gotten any sleep since the mission. “It is not meant to take two people at a time.”

“We know this,” Hanzo retorts. “I took a calculated risk.”

“And we lost, partner.”

Hanzo perks up at the sound of Jesse’s voice. Or his words, at the very least. It did not sound like him, not really. His voice sounds about as gruff as Hanzo’s. 

Settling on the curtain behind Genji, Hanzo calls out, “Jesse?”

“Yup, it’s me. I’m fine, don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

Hanzo smiles, and that eases his mind a bit. At least Jesse is okay. “Then what is this incident?”

Genji inhales and exhales slowly. “Look at your hand.”

Frowning, Hanzo looks down at his right hand— “What the fuck?!” He sees a fine layer of hair dusting the back of his _tanned_ hand. He turns it over, not even recognising those palm lines. “This isn’t my hand.”

“Nup,” Jesse says from behind the curtain. “It’s mine.”

“Your—” Hanzo huffs. “Will you _please_ stop speaking in riddles?”

“Here,” Genji says, handing him a mirror. “Please, try to remain calm.”

Hanzo looks at Genji and nods, extending his hand. The room starts to spin and he takes a deep, shaky breath as he wraps his hand around the handle of the mirror. He slowly brings it up to his face and when he looks at his reflection, his world crashes in on him. 

He does not see his face. He sees Jesse.

“What is this trickery..?” Hanzo says, barely a whisper. Jesse’s lips moved when he spoke, and he drops the mirror to the bed.

“Remember when I said the teleporter would mash our bodies together and we’d form a blob with two heads?” Jesse asks, and Hanzo can hear it now; that is not Jesse’s voice, it is _his_ voice. 

“Jesse?”

The curtain opens, and Hanzo sees himself. His body, at least, but everything else is Jesse, from the familiar lopsided smile to the hat on his head. “Turns out it switched our bodies instead.”

“No…” Hanzo presses a hand to his face, and it is not his face. It is not his nose, not his mouth—his beard. He picks up the mirror and sees Jesse in the reflection again, just to be sure. Tossing the mirror away, he pinches himself so hard he has to suppress a yelp.

“Ain’t a dream,” Jesse says, standing over him. He places his hand on his shoulder, and Hanzo recoils. “Easy now,” he says, hands in front of him like he is trying to calm a wild animal. “Hanzo, this could’ve been much worse.”

“This… this cannot be…”

“It is, in fact, very real,” Angela says. 

Hanzo looks at her, sees the seriousness in her eyes and he knows that this practical joke is beyond her. Which means, if she is in fact _not_ joking, then _this_ must be real. Or he somehow died and this is his punishment for all of his wrongdoings. 

Sighing heavily, Hanzo pinches the bridge of his nose. There is no bridge piercing, the familiar, comforting rigidness is nowhere to be found because this is not his body. 

Dropping his hand, he looks at Angela. “How?”

“Winston and Satya are trying to figure it out, but they think it has something to do with the teleporter destabilising when you went through together. There have been reported instances of two people going through together without incident under normal circumstances, but in the midst of a disconnection?” She pauses, inhales and exhales slowly. “Not even they know what has happened.”

“Took some convincing that I was, in fact, Jesse McCree stuck in Shimada Hanzo’s body,” Jesse says, placing his hand on his shoulder again, gentler than before. Hanzo does not recoil this time. “They thought you were pulling the world’s best prank, till I confirmed it was me by recalling something only Genji would know from my Blackwatch days.”

Hanzo just stares at Jesse—at himself. “It is so incredibly strange hearing your accent with my voice,” he says.

“Same here, partner.”

As the shock starts to wear off, seeing Jesse in front of him and knowing that he himself is safe, he relaxes. He looks at his body standing over him and it is possibly the most _surreal_ thing he has experienced. His eyes settle on his left arm, very much intact, and breathes in a sigh of relief when he sees his familiar dragon tattoo curling around his arm. 

Hanzo meets Jesse's eyes and smiles weakly. “Fucking teleportation technology.”

Offering a sympathetic smile, Jesse squeezes his shoulder. “I'm sorry you copped the raw deal in this fiasco.” 

“Because your injury is now my injury,” Hanzo mutters, looking at his leg.

“It is, and you will need rehabilitation,” Angela says. “May I?” She gestures to his leg with the wave of her hand. 

“Of course.” 

Angela pulls back the sheet, and it is odd, so extremely strange and unsettling seeing Jesse from this angle. She pushes the hospital gown up and inspects the now closed wound. All that remains is the telltale pink scar that will fade with time. 

Hanzo cannot help but get lost in the moment, he starts to realise just how much taller Jesse is than him. Jesse’s legs go on for days. Not only that, he has thick, muscular thighs, the right amount of hair on his legs— 

“The wound has healed nicely,” Angela says, pulling down the gown, breaking Hanzo from his observations. “You are free to go.”

“Go…?” Hanzo asks, frowning.

“To your quarters, or the mess hall for something to eat.” She drops her hands into her coat pockets, smiling. “You no longer need to stay here.”

Hanzo would have thought, given this situation, that he would be confined to the medbay. But he _is_ able, confirming that he is in control of Jesse's body by pointing his toes. And he is hungry. “How long has it been?”

“Six hours,” Angela replies.

“Six hours,” Hanzo murmurs. Jesse has been awake and moving around in _his_ body for six hours.

“I even fetched you some clothes,” Jesse says, grabbing a stack of clothing from the bed behind him. Then he chuckles. “Or me some clothes. Figuring out what to call each other is going to be a learning curve.” 

Hanzo gapes at the pile, and realises he will no longer be able to wear _his_ clothes—he will have to wear Jesse’s. His clothes will be too small to accommodate Jesse's frame if his legs are anything to go by.

“Don’t worry,” Jesse says gently, “we sent Genji in. Turns out you’re a little shorter in the legs, narrower in the waist for my usual wear.”

Humming, Hanzo glances at Genji who shrugs and offers an apologetic smile. Genji has been in his room exactly two times, and that was when Genji found him drinking on the edge of the cliffs. Genji respects Hanzo’s need for space, and Genji was reluctant to enter it on those two occasions. 

Despite the invasion of privacy, Hanzo nods—this _is_ an exceptional circumstance.

Shifting his gaze back to Jesse, Hanzo eyes him up and down. He is in Overwatch issue clothes—black cargo pants and a black t-shirt emblazoned with the Overwatch logo—and they do fit him like they are _his_ clothes, not Jesse's. 

Jesse is wearing his clothes. At least it’s that uniform he hardly wears and not his _actual_ clothes. Even though it’s _his_ body, which makes more sense for Jesse’s comfort—

Hanzo huffs. He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t know _why_ he cares so much that Jesse will be wearing his clothes. This whole situation is fucked, and hopefully being back in the familiar surrounds of his room will put his mind at ease and have him thinking straight. 

“The hat looks ridiculous,” Hanzo mutters, looking at that dirty _thing_ sitting atop his head. 

Jesse chuckles, lifting the brim of the hat with his finger. It is something he does from time to time that Hanzo finds sexy, and something that looks absolutely ridiculous in his skin. “I reckon it looks downright cute on you. Me. Whatever.”

 _Cute?_ Hanzo is _anything_ but cute— 

“Now, we did have to undress you for the surgery,” Angela says. “Would you like assistance getting re-dressed?”

“I think I will manage,” Hanzo replies, holding out his hand for the clothes. Jesse rests them in Hanzo’s lap and it is only then, as he flicks through the pile, that there is a pair of underwear there, too. That means he is naked under the gown. If he is naked, he will see Jesse’s naked body. How will he use the bathroom? Or shower? 

How will he deal with his nighttime routine now that he is in Jesse’s body? What if Jesse has the same routine? Can he _touch_ Jesse's body? Is it perverted to ask to touch Jesse's body in a sexual manner? 

What if Jesse wants to touch _his_ body?

Hanzo bites his tongue, stopping his spiralling thoughts and allowing the rational part of his mind to take over. He squares his shoulders and looks Jesse in the eye. “We need to have a discussion about boundaries.”


	2. Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be exaggerating their height difference juuuuuuust a wee little bit.
> 
> also no beta so hopefully i haven't switched them back by accident 😅
> 
> EDIT 10/09/2020 Fixed a teensy continuity error.

Hanzo’s apprehension is high, higher than it has been in a long time. Breathing isn’t working because the lungs inside his body aren’t _his_ lungs, just like the heart which is beating at an alarming rate. This physiological response is foreign, and none of his usual techniques is helping.

Calmly—as calmly as he can—Hanzo looks at Jesse. “We need to have a discussion about boundaries.”

Jesse nods in agreement. His gaze shifts to Dr. Ziegler. 

“We will give you the room,” Angela says, standing. Her eyes flit to Genji, she tilts her head ever so slightly before walking to her office.

“I am sorry this has happened,” Genji says, placing a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “But you do not have to face this alone.” 

_Alone_. Like Genji or Angela have _any_ clue on how to handle this or what he's going through right now. He couldn’t be any _more_ alone.

Biting back a sigh, Hanzo gives a single, affirmative nod. Genji is trying to help, he is not deserving of the frustration. After a moment, Genji steps away, entering Angela’s office and closing the door behind him. 

“I’m sorry too,” Jesse murmurs, sitting in Genji's seat and letting out a long, drawn out breath. “This is one fucked up situation.”

“It is right out of science fiction.”

Jesse huffs a laugh. “You’re telling me.” He eases into a small smile, his eyes linger on Hanzo’s face. Hanzo cannot help but stare at himself—his body which is doing things he himself would not normally do. “It is _so_ weird seeing myself from this angle. 

“It is,” Hanzo breathes. Jesse is sitting how _he_ would normally sit: slouched, arms folded across his chest, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. It is so incredibly relaxed and _uncouth,_ Hanzo is certain he has never sat like that in this life. “If you fuck with my posture, I _will_ kill you.”

“Shit, straight out of the gate,” Jesse says, chuckling. Drawing in a breath and closing his eyes, he sits up, draws his shoulders back, places his hands palm down on his thighs and spreads his legs. “This a little more like how you sit?” 

Hanzo cannot help but stare at his crotch. Does he really sit with his legs that far apart? It is an open invitation for everyone to stare. _Does_ everyone stare? He hadn’t noticed— 

“Yes,” Hanzo strangles out, tearing his eyes away and meeting Jesse's gaze.

 _His_ gaze. Dark and piercing and _unnerving_. It leaves Hanzo feeling like he is about to apologise for something he hasn’t done.

“All right,” Jesse says with a smile. And with it, all hints of unfriendliness disappear. Genji, in their youth, would say that Hanzo had ‘the biggest case of resting bitch face,’ and it was something Hanzo brushed off. But seeing that stare levelled at him now, he understands. 

Maybe he _should_ try smiling more.

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he shudders. Viscerally.

Jesse clears his throat, his eyes drop, glancing at Hanzo's bicep. “I think the first thing we should do is reattach the prosthetic. There’s not a whole lot you can do with one arm, believe me.”

Hanzo hands Jesse the pile of clothes sitting on his lap and Jesse places them on the table behind him, where his prosthetic is lying. Pulling back the sleeve on his left arm and tucking it into his armpit, Hanzo’s eyes linger on the connector, sitting just above where his elbow would be. While this isn’t the first time he has seen Jesse’s arm with the prosthetic off, it _is_ the first time he has allowed himself to analyse the cybernetics. But the more he tries to figure it all out, all he can focus on is just how jarring it is seeing his arm missing.

Eyeing the prosthetic in Jesse’s hands, Hanzo takes a shaky breath. “What must I do?”

“Line up the prosthetic like so,” Jesse aligns the prosthetic without making contact, “and it’s a twist and click.” He mimics the action, before pulling the prosthetic away. “It’s held in place with a locking mechanism when it connects.” 

“It seems simple enough.”

There is a moment of silence, and Hanzo looks up at Jesse. He licks his lips, meeting Hanzo’s gaze. 

“It will be painful when all the nerve endings connect," Jesse says quietly. "You'll feel it, from your shoulder right down to the fingers.” 

“I never considered that you would be able to feel through it.”

“Yup.” Jesse turns the prosthetic and presses his fingers to the mechanical tips. “It’s not a full sensation of touch, it’s almost like feeling things through a glove, I guess? You’ll see.” Jesse's eyes meet him and he smiles sympathetically. “Ready?”

Hanzo nods. Jesse cups his bicep gently, lining the prosthetic to the connector.

"You’ll want to twist it forty-five degrees," Jesse says, twisting it slowly. “Then the locking mechanism will slide into place. You should feel it.”

“I can,” Hanzo says, feeling the sudden weight of the prosthetic as it glows that familiar blue. 

"That's all there is to it, but now, it'll get intense."

It starts with a tingling sensation at the connector. It passes quickly, but instead of returning to normal, it burns, up his arm to his shoulder, then to the tips of his fingers, like he has dipped his entire arm in boiling water. But it doesn’t get better, it gets _worse_ when his fingers flex autonomously. The pain borders on too much, he bites his tongue to keep from making any vocalisation. 

Then, all of a sudden, the pain subsides. Hanzo lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, massaging his bicep on instinct. 

“You okay?”

Hanzo opens his eyes, looking at Jesse. “You go through that every time?”

“Yep,” Jesse says, chuckling softly. “You'll get used to it, though.”

“I…" Hanzo swallows the lump in his throat as shame settles over him. There have been two moments where he has seen Jesse connect the prosthetic, both times on missions, and aside from a momentary frown, Hanzo would never have guessed he went through _this_ every time. "I had no idea.”

“No one ever asks,” Jesse murmurs. He's silent for a moment, then he smiles. “It’s fine, though, it’s the price I pay for wanting a functional arm." He points to the prosthetic. "How does it feel?”

Hanzo looks down at his prosthetic hand, flexing his fingers. He holds out his flesh and blood hand, wiggling his fingers and turning over both at the same time. “It feels like my actual hand.”

“Good, that’s what you want. If it ever fritzes, feels funny or abnormal, anything different to what you're feeling right now, you gotta detach it and try again. It’s not painful to remove it, don’t worry, but I can show you how to do that later if you’d like? So you don’t have to go through reconnecting it again so soon.”

“I would like that. What is involved?” 

“There’s a disconnect switch located on the connector,” Jesse opens a small panel on the bicep side of the prosthetic, revealing a single button. “You gotta activate that, then twist it off. Obviously, you can’t take it off without flipping the switch first.”

Hanzo nods. “It should be manageable.”

“And ah, it’s much better to sleep with it off. The stump needs to breathe, and smacking yourself in the face with a metal hand is _not_ fun.”

“I would imagine not.” 

There is a moment of silence, and it grows tenser as time goes on. With the prosthetic discussed, that only leaves the aforementioned boundaries, the things that should and shouldn’t be done in each other’s bodies. Hanzo knows what needs to be discussed, certain parts of his nightly _routine_ , but simply can’t find the words. He glances at Jesse, noticing not only the small smirk on his face but also his reddened cheeks.

“So... I didn’t look at…” Jesse gesticulates, his eyes, for the briefest of moments, settle on his crotch. “Y'know. If you were wondering.”

Well, that makes it easier. Taking a breath, Hanzo thinks about all the times he looks at and touches his cock throughout the day, shooing away the sexual parts because he is not going to ask Jesse permission to jerk off in his body. But showering, urinating, _adjusting_ when everything sticks together and to the sides of his thighs uncomfortably with sweat… 

“It will be inevitable,” Hanzo replies, meeting Jesse’s gaze. “We will need to urinate, to shower… _touching_ is required.”

“Yup.”

“Since there is no choice in the matter, I deem it acceptable.”

“Same. And good, because I’ve been holding onto a piss for the last hour.”

Hanzo snorts, and slaps his hand to his mouth because the noise he made sounded so _guttural_ from Jesse’s lips. “Go. Before you destroy my kidneys.”

“And you should dress. Maybe when I get back we can get outta here, go to the mess hall for a quick bite so we’re out of the good doctor’s hair.”

“Agreed.” 

“Okay, see you in a bit,” Jesse says, standing. He tips his hat before pulling the curtain around the bed.

Hanzo looks at the curtain surrounding him and sighs; for the first time since waking, he is alone. Blessed solitude. He analyses his hands, one metal, one flesh and blood, focusing on the scratches and scuffs on the prosthetic. Some are deeper than others, and he is reminded of the sheer power he has witnessed, or the stories he has heard about the strength output of the prosthetic. Jesse is _no_ stranger to using his prosthetic like a tool, breaking through solid concrete walls or tearing metal like it were paper. He will absolutely have to be mindful of what he does with his left hand now; the last thing he wants to do is hurt himself or someone else without realising. 

Focusing on his forearm, he runs a finger down the metal skull adorning the prosthetic, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Gone is the intricate detail of his tattoo, and in its place is this ghoulish decoration. 

This will take some time getting used to. 

With a sigh, Hanzo lifts the blanket and swings his legs over the bed, sending his feet crashing into the floor. Usually, he can do this without touching it. He did not think there was much difference in height between himself and Jesse, but apparently there is more than he thought. 

Laying his feet flat on the ground, he stands cautiously. As he draws his shoulders back, straightening his spine, he gets hit with a little wave of vertigo and has to hold onto the bed for balance—how the _fuck_ is Jesse this tall? Maybe this is why he slouches because he is inhumanly tall and uses it as a means to hide it.

The room finally stops spinning and Hanzo takes a breath as he looks at his feet. He has never really paid attention to Jesse’s feet before, but his toes are… strange. Why is the second one longer than the big one? While Hanzo’s feet are wide, Jesse’s are long and narrow, abnormally so. It is an absolute miracle that Jesse’s twig feet can keep him balanced and upright. 

Reminding himself that people are genetically different, Hanzo shifts his focus to the pile of clothes, retrieving the underwear first. He holds them out, plain black boxer briefs which are actually the same brand Hanzo buys, so at least there is a small semblance of familiarity. Placing them down on the bed, he grabs the gown by the collar and pulls it down, stopping when it reveals his chest.

He is about to see Jesse naked. Hanzo has wanted this for so, _so_ long, but never once imagined this would be the circumstance. Taking a breath, he pulls the gown away slowly, holding it just above his waist. 

He has a hairy chest now. This is actually a quite flattering angle, with the hair dusting his chest and pecs and torso, and he moves his hand to touch the coarse hair—he stops himself and buries that thought in a box, where any and all sexual thoughts he is inevitably going to have can sit. He will _not_ violate Jesse’s body without his express permission. Which he is _not_ going to ask for, because he is _not_ a pervert.

Huffing, he stares at the curtain as he pulls the gown away completely, placing it on the bed and picking up the underwear. He can do this without looking at Jesse’s cock. One leg in, then the second, but as he pulls them up, he catches a flash of pink, something he was absolutely _not_ expecting and he has to look.

Jesse is circumcised.

Hanzo never once considered that Jesse _would_ be circumcised. Not that it's a problem, Hanzo's knows his way around a circumcised cock _when_ attached to a partner. But it is attached to _his_ body, and _he_ has to live with it—

“How’re you doin' in there?”

 _Fuck_ , Hanzo mouths. “Fine. Nearly done,” he says quickly, pulling up the underwear, sliding on the t-shirt and sweatpants as fast as he can before opening the curtain. Jesse looks at him and smiles, and Hanzo sits on the bed to put on socks and sneakers.

There is another awkward silence, and Hanzo realises that Jesse has seen and touched his cock. He wonders what Jesse thought—it's not like he needs validation, a cock is a cock, but it's one thing seeing it for the first time in the moments before sex, it's another eyeing it under the dull fluorescent lights of the bathroom.

What… What if he _didn't_ like what he saw? What if—

No. This level of _vanity_ is something he told himself he shed. He isn't a twenty-one-year-old who needs to be told he has a big dick, it doesn't mean _anything._

Biting back a frustrated growl, Hanzo turns his attention back to tying his sneakers. He stands when he is done and looks at Angela’s office, giving a single nod of his head when she makes eye contact with him through the window. 

Angela approaches, smiling softly. “All ready to go?”

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, making sure to keep his temper in check. “When will we start rehabilitation?”

“Tomorrow morning if you are free.”

“Of course.” 

“In the meantime,” Angela says, looking between him and Jesse, “it might be worth going through routines, allergies, aches and pains, whether you want to continue habits or taking vices, and getting permission for those things, sooner rather than later.

 _Habits..._ Hanzo spaces out, just for a moment, imagining a scenario where he asks Jesse if he can masturbate in his body and Jesse says yes. The image of masturbating in front of a mirror so he can take in Jesse’s naked body floats in his mind— 

Hanzo physically shakes his head, and he buries that right at the bottom of the box. 

At this rate, the box will be overflowing by the end of the day.

“...Speaking to Winston and Satya, too.”

“Yep, it’ll be good to get up to speed with their progress,” Jesse says, standing so close their arms brush together.

“Hanzo,” Angela says, and Hanzo turns his attention to her. “If you have any problems with your leg, come straight to me. It might have been a clean wound but Jesse's body suffered quite a bit of blood loss."

"Gunshot wound, I know the drill," Hanzo replies. The drill, meaning he needs to rest. Not rub one out. A reminder for when he's awake at four a.m. and unable to sleep because he hasn't partaken in that final part of his routine.

“You must take things easy for the next few hours," Angela says sternly, like she could _hear_ Hanzo’s thoughts.

Hanzo smiles, probably a little too broadly than he would have liked. “Of course.”

"Otherwise, my door is always open. To both of you,” Angela says, looking between them. “This is an extremely atypical situation, and you may want to discuss certain things without going to the other with. I am qualified to offer counselling services, so you are not alone in this experience. Baptiste has also been apprised of your situation and his door is open too.”

“No worries, doc,” Jesse says. 

“Also,” Angela says, her eyes flit to Jesse. “I have spoken to Jesse about this, but I have pulled the both of you off active duty. Hanzo, it was a given considering you are dealing with the injury, but for the time being, while you are in each other's bodies, no missions unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Hanzo nods slowly. Just last week he was looking forward to some downtime, a break from constantly being on the move thanks to all of these missions, but now, _now_ that he has it, it is another reminder of just how life-altering this body swap is.

Jesse places a gentle hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, drawing Hanzo from his thoughts. It's soft and comforting, something he didn't actually know he _needed_ in this ludicrous situation. “Do you want to pay a visit to Winston, or have that discussion about what we can and cannot do now?”

“Winston,” Hanzo replies without thinking. Jesse frowns and Hanzo smiles weakly. "Winston, please. I would like to know how long we will be inconvenienced.”

“Ouch,” Jesse says with a chuckle. “But sure, we’ll drop by the lab and do tea or coffee or whatever after. I just wanna make sure we don’t accidentally kill each other with allergies we don’t know about.”

“Very well.”

“Well then,” Angela says, smiling. “You are free to go. Please don't hesitate to call myself or Baptiste if you require anything in the middle of the night."

“Thank you, doctor,” Hanzo says, bowing his head.

Jesse tips his hat, and Hanzo leads. Not only are his steps slow with fatigue, putting one foot in front of the other—feet that _don't_ belong to him—feels awkward. Literally walking in another person’s shoes is more difficult than he thought. Jesse’s legs are long and lanky—it feels like there's so much more _limb_ he needs to control. And coupled with the fact he has not eaten anything since this morning, he feels unsteady on Jesse’s needle feet.

“Took me a bit to get used to walking, too,” Jesse says from beside him. “Didn’t realise I’d need an adjustment to shorter legs.”

Hanzo looks _down_ at Jesse, at _himself,_ when Jesse takes off the hat to scratch his head—is he really that short? He can only imagine what Jesse thinks of him when wearing those heeled boots which make him taller than he already is. He stares at the top of his head and suppresses a shudder; his hair is disgustingly greasy. Surely it doesn't always look this bad.

“There are many things we will need to adjust to, I would imagine," Hanzo says, tearing his eyes away and looking forward. "Things we would normally take for granted.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask… Will you be okay with me smoking?”

Hanzo stops in his tracks, and Jesse turns. “Smoking?”

“Cigars. I know we often smoke after a mission, but just wanted to be sure.”

“I had not considered…” Smoking, alcohol, food, night time _routines_ … They are going to have to talk about _everything_. “Perhaps limit it to high-stress times,” Hanzo replies. “No more than I would usually partake.”

“I can do that.”

Hanzo continues walking and Jesse walks in step beside him. He wonders how much alcohol he will be able to drink. Jesse’s metabolism is going to be different, _can_ he drink more than he normally would? Will his body handle less? Hanzo’s intake is practically non-existent these days because of the fear of lasting effects on his body. _Could_ he drink more if Jesse allowed it? Because downing an entire bottle of sake would feel wonderful right about now—

“Hanzo.”

It takes Hanzo a moment, but when he finally blinks back to reality, he realises Jesse is no longer beside him. He turns, seeing Jesse standing in front of Winston's lab. “My apologies,” he says, approaching the doors.

“Hanzo,” Jesse says again, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I just wanna say, you’re allowed to say no to anything I might ask of you. You can say no to anything you don’t want inside your body.”

Hanzo opens his mouth, almost ready to ask Jesse if he can drink to get drunk. But then he remembers that _he_ is the one recovering from a gunshot wound, who hasn’t eaten in hours. It would be incredibly unresponsible.

It is a shame; an excessive amount of sake is usually enough to lull him to sleep. 

Shutting his mouth, Hanzo gives a single affirmatory nod and steps inside the lab. Switching mindsets, he sees Winston and Satya looking at a monitor, and he approaches quietly, analysing the wall of formulas and equations.

“The numbers do not lie,” Satya says, huffing as she aggressively gestures to the equations. “This will not work.”

“We have to try _something_ ,” Winston replies, rubbing his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“ _Nothing_ has worked. _This_ will not work.”

“Doesn’t sound good,” Jesse says, earning everyone’s attention. 

“Jesse, Hanzo,” Winston says wearily, putting on his glasses. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Are things not going well?” Hanzo asks.

“We have tried thirty-two simulations and none have worked,” Satya answers, calmer than before. “It is perplexing.”

Jesse folds his arms across his chest. “So the obvious didn’t work?” 

“Sending the two of you through as the teleporter shuts down will not result in you switching back,” Satya replies, dropping into a seat. “Sending you through at any time point for the duration the teleporter is active will not result in you switching back. Going through together _period_ should not have made you switch. There have been multiple reported instances where two people have gone through a teleporter at the same time, and not once has this happened. We have no baseline, nothing to compare this to.” She huffs again, dropping her head. “I am sorry I do not have the answers you are after.” 

Hanzo inhales and exhales slowly. He supposes a quick fix for this situation was wishful thinking. It could take them days. Weeks. Months _._ He could be stuck in Jesse’s body for the rest of his life. 

That thought—that thought has him seeing red. 

Putting a lid on his rising anger, Hanzo lifts his head. “It has only been a few hours, yes?” 

“Approaching five non-stop hours,” Winston murmurs.

“It might be wise to break for the night,” Hanzo says. “Get some rest. Eat, sleep.” He glances at Jesse. “We can survive just fine in the meantime.” 

“Yep,” Jesse says with a nod. “We’ll be just peachy. Ain’t that hard bein’ in each other’s bodies.”

“A good suggestion,” Winston says, stretching his arms behind him and cracking his back. “Perhaps tomorrow we can look at the teleporter itself, pull it apart, see if anything is out of the ordinary. Forget simulations and equations for a little while. Torbjörn and Brigitte might be able to provide an angle we haven’t looked at yet.”

“It could be of help to focus on something different,” Satya replies. She sighs, turning her attention to Hanzo. “Apologies again, I was hoping this would be sorted before you woke.”

“It is fine,” Hanzo says, smiling thinly. It's about all he can muster at this point. “Take your time, I have faith that you can get this done."

"Me too," Jesse adds.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have been ordered by Dr. Ziegler to rest.”

“Of course,” Winston says, standing. “Sleep well.”

Hanzo bows his head and turns to leave, glancing at Jesse as he heads to the door. He thinks about how he will handle his routine this evening. A cup of chamomile tea now while they discuss the intricacies of moving forward. Then a shower, and perhaps a second cup before bed which will hopefully aid his sleep given he cannot masturbate. The day was especially strenuous with the mission, so he will absolutely need juniper oil for his legs or they will ache tomorrow—He rolls his eyes when he has the realisation. He does not need to oil his legs. He will need to tell Jesse that.

He glances over his shoulder and sees Jesse jogging to catch up. 

“Hey, everything all right?”

“Fine.”

“We don’t have to do tea and coffee, we can go straight to your room if you’d like.”

“It is fine. I just have much to tell you.”

“Right back atcha,” Jesse says. “I know Angie said she’s open to talking about anything, but I want you to know that I’m open to talking about anything. Anything at all. Doesn’t matter how weird, or gross, or embarrassing it is, I won’t judge.”

“You make it sound like I am about to tell you I have genital warts that require treatment,” Hanzo replies flatly, stepping into the mess hall. He is thankful it is empty, he is not in the mood to deal with anyone else at the moment.

“You don’t… Do you?”

Hanzo stops, turns, and glares at Jesse, hoping his look alone can convey just how foolish that comment was.

“Was just asking,” he murmurs, raising his hands in surrender. 

Hanzo takes a breath and holds it. He knows he needs to keep a cool head, this is not Jesse's fault. _He_ was the one who ignorantly stepped through the teleporter with Jesse by his side. 

_Consequences be damned._

“I am sorry,” Hanzo says, exhaling. “I extend the same courtesy to you. If there is anything you are curious about, or unsure of, please come to me. After all, we know our bodies the best.”

“Yep,” Jesse says, chuckling softly. He approaches the counter, wrapping his hand around the handle of the kettle. “What’re you having?”

“Chamomile tea.”

“I’ll have one too, then.”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you drink tea?”

“Since I’m living inside your body, I figure I should respect it.” He opens the lid, walking to the sink to fill it up. “Least I can do. I treat mine like shit, and you’ll feel it, but bein’ inside yours, I haven’t felt this good in years.” He turns, offering a sympathetic smile. “I’m goin’ to keep it that way.”

“So you are saying that the reason I feel lethargic and nauseous is not because of today’s events, but because you do not take care of yourself?”

“It’s probably not helping, no,” Jesse replies sheepishly.

Hanzo has to bite his tongue from saying something he regrets about the way Jesse lives his life. He busies himself instead, grabbing their clean mugs from the dishwasher and preparing the tea while compiling a mental list of what to tell Jesse. There is _no way_ he will allow Jesse to reach this level of disgust when they eventually switch back, and he will endeavour to get Jesse to some kind of healthy level while inhabiting his body. 

This feeling is bordering on unbearable.

“I _will_ get your body to a place where you no longer feel like this,” Hanzo murmurs, handing the mug of steaming tea to Jesse.

“Thanks,” Jesse says, taking the mug. “And I appreciate that, but it’s my body, my rules. There are no guarantees I’ll adhere to what will probably be an insurmountable task when we’re switched back.”

That is _such_ a Jesse attitude. Hanzo glowers at him as he passes him, approaching the table and taking a seat. Right now, he just wants to get this over and done with so he can shower, be in the comforting surrounds of his room and forget this day ever happened.

He can feel the tension headache right now, a steady throbbing from behind his eyes all the way to the nape of his neck. His entire head feels like it is in a vice grip. He will have to take painkillers because his usual go-to to relieve these kinds of headaches is out of the question. The simple endorphin rush he gets with release is enough to clear the tension and anxiety. 

Assuming Jesse is able to take medication, that is. 

Breathing in and out and massaging his temple, Hanzo uses that as a means to relieve the pain in the meantime. He looks at Jesse—at himself—as he approaches and goes through his quick list to discuss what he needs to talk to Jesse about.

“I have massage oil in my quarters,” Hanzo says as Jesse sits down, “that you will want to massage on my legs, otherwise they will ache in the morning.”

“You got any special techniques?”

“Focus on the calves, apply pressure.”

“Okay.”

“I am allergic to latex, so please avoid that.”

“Latex,” Jesse says with a level of amusement that Hanzo does not care for. Revealing these little things he was able to keep secret is proving embarrassing and the sooner this is over with, the sooner he will be alone and the happier he will be.

“It would be worth avoiding excessive amounts of dairy,” Hanzo continues. “I have an intolerance and it would not be good for the body.”

Jesse straightens up, it seems he is _finally_ taking this seriously. “How excessive are we talking?”

Hanzo thinks about all five cups of coffee Jesse drinks throughout the day. He has three with cream, the other two black. “You should be able to drink your coffees, but not much more than that.”

“Okay, good to know,” Jesse says soberly.

“Do you have any allergies or intolerances?” Hanzo asks.

“Nope. Go for your life.” Jesse takes a sip of tea, and then his eyes widen. “Actually. Onions. They make me uh…" he chuckles, "fragrant. I just avoid ‘em now, unless I'm planning on a bender and I know I'm going to be in bed the following day.”

Hanzo has to stop himself from reeling. Jesse has two celebratory modes: either a quick drink with the team following a mission or full-blown drink-to-get-drunk and eat as much fried food as humanly possible. His go-to is order after order of fries and onion rings.

And now, knowing _this_? That he wilfully eats onions knowing it affects his gut, that, in a hungover state he is probably just as gassy as Hanzo is after eating ice cream, and is _fragrant._ The image of Jesse waving his arm over his ass to shoo away a fart cloud will forever be etched in Hanzo's memory, and something he will absolutely think about when he sees Jesse eat onion rings next. 

Suppressing a shudder, Hanzo tries to forget about _that_. “I would be appreciative if you did not consume excessive amounts of alcohol," he says, bringing the mug to his lips. "I am trying to limit my consumption.”

“Got it." There is a pause when Jesse takes a sip of tea. He does his best to hide his grimace, but Hanzo can tell that he does not like the tea. In fact, Hanzo cannot think of a time where Jesse _has_ had tea to drink. "So uh..." Jesse sets his cup down, lifting the tattooed arm. He taps at the dragon's maw on his wrist. "Anything I need to know about these guys?"

Hanzo stares at the tattoo. "The dragons remain dormant unless called upon. You cannot feel them, can you?"

"Nope," Jesse says with the shake of his head. "Should I?"

"No." Hanzo wonders if they know what has happened. They are tied to the host, not the soul of the person, so by all rights, they should be tied to his body, not him in Jesse's. It is likely that Jesse does not have the mental discipline to call upon them, it took years of meditation to master communing with them without the taxing toll on the body. Still, they respond to danger when the host is in distress. Given that his body was never in distress, be never sustained an injury, it makes sense that they remained dormant. However, given that his body is occupied by someone who, as far as Hanzo knows, has never once meditated, the fact that the dragons _aren't_ picking up on that is somewhat upsetting.

Taking another sip of tea, Hanzo realises that it's probably for the better that they aren't present. Who knows what damage they could be causing right now if Jesse were unable to control them.

"If you start to feel the effects static electricity, or experience unexplained mood swings, please call me immediately. That means the dragons have been awakened."

"Shit."

"Try not to worry," Hanzo says with a smile, hoping it's reassuring. "It takes a lot of focus and discipline for them to be called from slumber."

Jesse huffs a laugh. "Don't know whether to be offended or not."

Frowning, Hanzo says, "It was not meant to cause offence..."

"Don't worry," Jesse says easily. "I was just pulling your leg. Anything else?”

“No,” Hanzo says, taking a sip of tea, focusing on the flavour and not the lingering thought of his hand wrapped around his cock that refuses to go away.

“I think that covers everything, I reckon. We live three doors down from each other anyways, and we have the ability to instantly communicate by text. If there's anything else, I'm sure we can let each other know.”

“I suppose.”

Jesse inhales and exhales deeply. “I can see you're tired and agitated, and honestly, I don't blame you. I'd be pissed off too if I ended up in my body.”

“It is not that—”

“It is.”

Hanzo meets Jesse's unblinking stare and eventually concedes, sighing. “My apologies. It was not my intention to cause offence.”

“It's all right, don't worry,” Jesse says softly. “It's hard enough with the prosthetic, let alone the injury _and_ having to deal with rehab tomorrow.” Jesse smiles sympathetically. “I packed up all my clothes in a bag. We should go to your quarters and you can take a look at what you've got. Get this done so you can rest.”

Hanzo nods, picking up his mug as he stands. They walk in silence and it is tense and uncomfortable. What Hanzo wouldn’t give to be leading Jesse to his room under any other circumstance. 

At his room, he inputs the code and opens the door. A sense of calm washes over him when he steps inside, like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. The familiarity, the smell, it's a sense of home, of normality. He should have just come here first and spoken to Winston and Satya in the morning. 

Placing his mug down on the nightstand, he notices a duffel bag sitting beside his closet. “Yours?”

“Yup.”

Hanzo hums, picking it up and placing it on the bed. He'll go through it later. Opening his closet, he pulls out his gym bag and packs everything: underwear, sweatpants, t-shirts, jeans, shoes. He leaves his gi and hakama, Jesse would still be training with his gun, and it _might_ be loose enough that he can wear it with Jesse's frame.

If he can even properly use his bow with the long limbs attached to Jesse’s body.

He looks at his boots, another thing he is not going to offer Jesse. He has not trained in the same manner—he might be more athletically inclined being in Hanzo’s body, but he won’t need the boots to cushion falls and climb walls, especially since they are not on active duty. 

“If you intend on doing anything strenuous in the gym, you will need compression socks also,” Hanzo says, picking them up and placing them in the bag. 

“How strenuous are we talking?”

Hanzo thinks back to Jesse's time in the gym, and Jesse definitely prefers weights to cardio. He hates the treadmill, no one can force it on him unless it is Angela who has cornered him to partaking in a physical examination, and as such he will not need them. “Any time on the treadmill,” he says in any case.

“Y’want me to treadmill for you?”

“I am not going to force you, but if you do, please wear them.”

“Fine,” Jesse groans childishly, even going to the extra effort to roll his eyes too.

Hanzo does not care for it, and he has just reached the end of his tether. “If you don’t want to run,” he says, frustration leaching into his words as he aggressively zips up the bag, “then don’t. Otherwise, we are done, and I will see you tomorrow.” He thrusts the bag into Jesse’s chest. 

Jesse looks on with wide eyes, and he slowly raises his arms to grab hold of the bag. “All right,” he says meekly, taking a step back. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Hanzo folds his arms across his chest, and Jesse nods, quickly leaving his room. The moment the door is closed, Hanzo lets out a long breath and falls to his bed, cradling his head in his hands. 

He allows himself this moment of pity, to truly let the weight of this horrible day his day settle on him, where he is now stuck in this reprehensible situation. When he feels the telltale prickle of tears, he closes his eyes and rubs them so hard he sees stars. 

Crying. Could _he_ be any more of a child? His behaviour certainly resembled that of a child, directing his anger and frustration towards Jesse. He did not deserve that; he is in the exact same situation and is not having a meltdown. 

Once convinced the tears are no longer going to spill, he pulls his head up and scans his room. From the peace lily sitting on the windowsill to the incense on his desk in the corner, he is grateful that he _has_ his room. 

With a sigh, Hanzo enters his bathroom and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He cannot help but truly stare. He has never allowed himself to look at Jesse this long, this hard, for fear of getting caught but now… From the crow's feet on the corners of his eyes to the worry lines etched into his forehead, these little things which Hanzo found charming just make Jesse look so _old_ with his face neutral. Hanzo tries smiling and it's not that same smile he has come to love: it's hollow, it doesn't meet his eyes. 

He scrubs a hand through Jesse’s beard, the wiry hairs stick up on end. He smooths them down, fingertips tracing his jawline and it’s so _foreign._ Even down to the pierced ear, Hanzo thumbs at the two small golden hoops in his right ear. While pierced ears are new to Hanzo, one in each ear felt right. Two in one ear has a charm on Jesse, but now that this is _his_ body, his left ear just feels naked and neglected.

Moving his head from side to side, it is so incredibly bizarre seeing Jesse’s body respond to his movements: opening and closing his mouth, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers. Staring into his eyes. He has wanted this for so long, and now that it's his he wants nothing to do with it.

He sighs deeply, closing his eyes. This will take a lot of time to adjust to. _If_ it does at all.

Shaking his head to chase those negative thoughts away, Hanzo lifts his shirt over his head. As he is about to toss it into the hamper, he eyes the forgotten massage oil on the sink counter. Of fucking course.

Huffing, Hanzo slides the t-shirt back on, grabs the oil and walks down to Jesse’s quarters, knocking on the door. He was done dealing with Jesse today but at the very least, while he is here and has the opportunity, he should apologise for his behaviour. 

After a moment the door unlocks, and Jesse opens it. “Oh, hi,” he says, almost apprehensive.

Hanzo holds up the oil and offers a small smile. “I forgot to give you this.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Jesse holds out his hand, and Hanzo passes it over. Jesse looks at the label and after a moment hums. “Massage into your legs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Too easy.” Jesse's eyes flit back to Hanzo. “Anything else?”

“I…." Hanzo takes a breath, using the moment to tell himself he was in the wrong. "I also want to apologise. My behaviour was abhorrent and you did not deserve to bear the brunt of my frustration.”

“It’s fine, Hanzo, really.”

“It is not. You are in the same situation as me, and from what I can tell," Hanzo drops his gaze and focuses on his feet. Right now, the guilt has him feeling absolutely horrid. "You have not had a meltdown.”

“You just missed it,” Jesse says quietly. Hanzo meets his eyes and Jesse stands aside, extending his arm inside. Hanzo steps through, sitting on Jesse’s desk chair as Jesse sits on his bed. “Once I managed to convince them _I_ was inside your body, and once you were stabilised, I went down to the range. Just needed a distraction, you know? I stepped through that teleporter in my body, in pain, on the verge of death, I’m certain, and stepped through completely fine. You though—my body wasn’t in the best of shape, and I just dumped that on you.”

“You cannot blame yourself.”

“But it happened, Hanzo,” Jesse murmurs. There is no frustration, no anger behind his words, just sadness. “You shouldn’t be paying for my fuck up.”

“Getting shot is hardly a fuck up.”

“I knew he was on me. I got cocky.”

“It could have been worse.”

Jesse huffs a sardonic laugh. “Yeah. I could be in deep freeze and you’d still be in your body.”

“Or we could be one person with two heads.” Hanzo smiles softly when Jesse looks at him. “You heard Winston and Satya. We _should_ have come through as ourselves. The teleporter _can_ take two people at once without this happening.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, rubbing his eyes with both hands. He pulls them away and he looks so incredibly fatigued all of a sudden. “It’ll just take time to adjust.” He takes off his hat, placing it on the bed before running his fingers through his hair, in a move he has seen Jesse do countless times when he is struggling with something. He tries to, at least, but his fingers catch on the hair tie. “Keep forgetting you tie up your hair,” he murmurs. Hanzo catches the barest hint of his voice breaking, and now Hanzo can see Jesse is struggling with this situation. 

“You can leave it untied,” Hanzo says sympathetically. 

Jesse looks at Hanzo, opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it again. “Thanks. I’m… going to have a shower if that's okay?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Never thought I’d ever need to ask permission for something so simple that what we take for granted.”

There's something in Jesse's voice, a fragility, a vulnerability that breaks Hanzo's heart. “It's fine. I was going to have a shower before I realised I had forgotten to give you the oil.”

“This’ll be one hell of a story to tell one day,” Jesse says, meeting Hanzo’s gaze. Tears well in his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away.

“Indeed.” Hanzo stands, and a small part of him is aching at the thought of being alone. He doesn't _want_ to be alone tonight. It is not about trust, but rather comfort; staying with the person who too is going through this, being shoulders to lean on.

The rest of him, though, is craving the silence and solitude and the familiarity of his own room. And looking at Jesse, he probably wants the same. Jesse does not seem like he is in the mood, nor does Hanzo want to seem desperate and clingy. If Hanzo wants company, he can go back to the medbay.

Pushing down that rising ball of sadness again, Hanzo bows his head. “Have a good night, Jesse.”

Jesse clears his throat and nods. “You too.”

Hanzo walks back to his quarters, taking a deep breath once the door is locked. He tries not to think about the day as he downs the rest of his lukewarm tea, as he undresses, as he stands under the water in the shower and closes his eyes. 

But after a moment, the frustration rises again—it seems Jesse’s skin is not as tolerant to hot water as his own, and this slightly cooler shower is not hitting the spot. On top of that, with these fixed showerheads, he has to hunch over to have the water properly cascade down his back. 

When he eventually has the strength to open his eyes, he looks at the pink round scar on his thigh, bright in comparison to the rest of Jesse’s scars. Hanzo finds himself running a finger over each one, the ones he has not seen before because they were always hidden under clothing, imagining scenarios where Jesse obtained them. 

And as he scans each one, his curiosity to have a proper look at Jesse’s cock reaches levels he is honestly surprised he can withstand. When he finishes with the last scar, sitting across his left pec that’s mostly hidden in his chest hair, he realises there is nothing else to look at. He supposes, at the very least, that he should wash the area and keep it clean. It was easy to say, ‘it is okay to look and touch’, but to actually _do_ it, Hanzo finds himself nervous.

Jesse announced he was having a shower. He is probably looking at his body right now, analysing the tattoos and the old scars in the same way. Probably just as curious about his cock, too.

Taking a breath, Hanzo looks down. Jesse is… smaller than Hanzo imagined, especially given just how big that bulge in his jeans always is. Despite eyeing Jesse's cock, something he has _wanted_ for so, so long, all he can really stare at is the amount of pubic hair. It's like a jungle. That's not to say that Hanzo himself doesn't have any, but he at least keeps it neat and tidy. But it is ultimately no issue–Hanzo prefers his men to carry a little bit of hair.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shifts his attention back to Jesse's cock. While this is not the first time Hanzo has seen or handled a circumcised cock, the thought of actually _having_ one, at least temporarily, is strange. He wonders if it is less sensitive, if the constant rubbing against clothing has dulled it somewhat. He didn’t notice a change in sensitivity this evening.

He can’t help but wonder, given his own personal experience with an uncut cock, if _he_ would notice a difference. He can tell the difference in the temperature of the water despite being in Jesse’s body, it is possible that he would feel a difference in sensitivity.

Without thinking, he takes himself in his hand, realising what he is doing only as he is about to swipe his thumb across the head. He hesitates—this is wholly not sexual. This is curiosity. But as he looks down, seeing Jesse’s cock in his hand, something he has wanted, _lusted_ for _so long_ , he cannot help but wonder what he looks like hard. It would be so _easy_ , a couple of quick tugs— 

But the second he feels the first tingle in his groin, he backs the fuck away, switches off the hot water and stands under the cold. He will _not_ willingly get an erection in Jesse’s body. The random daytime ones he will live with, same with the morning ones, because they are out of his control. He will _not_ get aroused in Jesse's body unless Jesse himself says it's okay.

Once he is shivering under the water, and convinced his horniness has been killed, he flicks the hot water back on again to warm up, before shutting it off, drying, and climbing into bed without any thought whatsoever.

He takes a deep breath in, and can already smell the residual smoke smell from Jesse’s bag. His room will smell like Jesse soon enough and it will only get stronger. 

And it will make things that much harder to live with.

Looking down at the prosthetic, he knows Jesse said it's better to sleep with it off. But the thought of detaching his arm and leaving it to sit on his nightstand like a pair of glasses feels so _wrong._ It makes it an object, not a part of him, and right now, the thought of not having his arm is more distressing than hitting himself in the head with it.

Adding that to the list of disappointments from today, he turns off the lights and huffs a laugh. “I did not think this would be the way I would get you into my bed,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

His last thought, his last _hope_ , given the events of the day, is that he just drifts into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That scene where Jesse and Hanzo are saying goodnight to Mercy in the medbay, imagine Genji standing by her door, holding back a tide of laughter when he sees Jesse in Hanzo's body tipping his hat, and Hanzo in Jesse's body with his arms behind his back, bowing his head.


	3. Learning Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's about time we flipped this coin...

Jesse’s eyes flutter open, settling on the roof above him. The low light coming in through the blinds tells him it's early morning, but after the dream—nightmare—he had, he knows he’s not going back to sleep.

Taking in his darkened surroundings, everything’s as it should be—his trashy romance novels are on the shelf, Henrietta the cactus is on the desk beside the window, and the familiar and comforting bottle of bourbon is on the nightstand. 

Patting his left leg, he cannot feel it aching, and he breathes a sigh of relief; that completely vivid dream where he got shot and ended up in Hanzo’s body was _just_ a dream. He rubs his eyes with his right hand and yawns, scratching his chest with his left, and suddenly realises he is using both hands. He must have forgotten—

“Fuck,” he mutters, seeing Hanzo’s tattoo engulf his entire left arm. “Wasn’t a dream.” 

Sitting up, the sheet pools in his lap as dread hits heavy in his belly. The events of the day come flooding back: the mission gone wrong, coming through the teleporter in Hanzo’s body, losing his cool at the firing range, bearing the brunt of Hanzo’s anger. 

Shit, Hanzo was pissed off last night. He doesn’t blame Hanzo for his reaction, it was completely justified. Jesse just wishes it _were_ a practical joke or a dream, or that he could tell Hanzo that this is temporary, that soon enough everything will be back to normal.

Taking a deep breath to soothe his frayed nerves, he switches on the light above his bed and his eyes are drawn to his tattooed arm. While he spent most of his shower last night admiring it, he will honestly never tire of seeing Hanzo’s tattoo from this angle. The details are intricate, complex. He has always been in awe of the design and wanted to analyse it in greater detail but he was too shy to ask. Hanzo’s not the easiest of guys to get to know and the reaction could’ve been explosive.

Now though, even now, looking at the scales of the dragon that curls up his arm, he still feels a tendril of shame wrap around him. He didn’t ask permission to _leer_ at Hanzo’s tattoo—hell, he didn’t ask permission to leer at Hanzo’s body in general and yet he still spent a good half an hour last night gawking at just how sculpted his body is. 

Trying to push that guilt aside, he studies the dragon’s maw on his wrist, at it’s bared teeth. It definitely suits Hanzo to a tee. Following the dragon’s body up his arm, over his shoulder and onto his pec, he presses gentle fingers to its tail. Before he gets too carried away feeling the hardened muscle beneath, he kicks his right leg out of the sheet and analyses that tattoo too. He didn’t even know it was there—Hanzo wears compression tights in the gym, his hakama or pants elsewhere. To say it was a shock would be an understatement. 

He stares at the identical tattoo, as its body curls around his leg. Yesterday’s _analysis_ told him the tattoo continues on his ass and finishes on his hip, but he doesn’t try to look today. Jesse can appreciate the pain he must have endured getting half his body tattooed, and he can also appreciate just how impressive Hanzo is. Hanzo as a whole is a piece of art. Finely chiselled, incredibly muscular, absolutely gorgeous. It’s a shame he saw Hanzo naked for the first time thanks to _this_ situation, through his eyes and not looking at him from the bed. 

As he buries down that minor annoyance, he glances at his phone beside the bottle of bourbon, checking the time. “Six forty-five,” he breathes, closing his eyes and rubbing them between thumb and forefinger. He can’t remember the last time he was awake this early without an alarm and it’s probably because this _isn’t_ his body. He knows Hanzo is an early riser and clearly, his _body_ is used to it. 

It isn’t the only thing his _body_ is used to, it seems, because he is trying his damned hardest to ignore the raging erection he currently has that he won’t look at. Just like the raging erection he had after getting into bed last night. It might be his desire to be beneath Hanzo, utterly fucked into the mattress, to feel _that_ amazing cock inside him, but _fuck_ it takes more restraint than it should to respect Hanzo’s privacy and _not_ admire _that_ part of him, too.

Glancing at his phone and shifting gears before he _does_ give in and take a peek, Jesse figures that since he is awake, he might as well get on with his day. He could go to the gym, or take a walk, but as he picks it up and taps the corner with a finger, the last thing he wants is to roam the base in Hanzo’s body alone. Opening the messaging app, he sends Hanzo a message: _Breakfast?_

Placing the phone back on the nightstand, his first port of call is to relieve his bladder. He keeps things clinical—his bladder is so full it’s almost painful, which is probably _why_ he’s so hard and not from any lingering arousal. He has _no idea_ what the hell got him so wound up last night, but he had a boner the _moment_ he laid down in bed. He was as far away from turned on as humanly possible, and yet, his dick— _Hanzo’s_ dick—was ready to go. 

At least it’s settled down _enough_ for the moment. Pulling down his underwear, he gives his cock a passing glance, just enough to pull back the foreskin and aim in the toilet. The moment the stream hits the water he braces his arm against the wall opposite him and closes his eyes. He drops his head to his bicep, the first thing that hits him is that he doesn’t smell like himself despite using his own soap and shampoo last night. 

Yet another thing he is adjusting to. The shortened height and the increased muscle mass has been more challenging dealing with than it should be, but it’s the uncut cock is throwing him off the most. He’s spent his entire life without his hooded, he had to look up correct ways to clean it yesterday for fuck’s sake. 

This is going to be an incredible learning curve.

He shakes when he finishes, sliding the foreskin back. If there is one thing he is learning, it’s that the head of Hanzo's cock is more sensitive than he was anticipating. It could be because it spends most of its time protected, it could be the fact that Hanzo’s body is more receptive to touch. 

He is ashamed to admit that, more than once, he has briefly entertained the idea of playing with an uncut cock now that he has the opportunity. But that will involve asking Hanzo if he can and there is _no way_ he will be doing that. He’s sure Hanzo would be offended by the mere thought of him defiling his body. The guy treats it like a temple, that was made _abundantly_ clear last night. There’s no way Hanzo would agree to it, not even if they were stuck like this for the rest of their lives. 

But... what _if_ he approached Hanzo with it? Hanzo’s body _clearly_ has needs that should be taken care of and while Jesse isn’t a habitual masturbator, he likes to have a good time now and then. His body will start to react in the same way Hanzo’s is now, there’s no denying that. 

The question that stands is what would _Hanzo_ do? Hanzo is many things, but a prude is not one of them—a guy who puts that much effort into defining every single muscle in his body does it for one purpose: to show it off to whoever will look. And a _lot_ of people look. Even Lena has made admiring comments about Hanzo’s body.

Hell, maybe he could frame it in a way where he could approach Hanzo and telling him that _he_ can touch his body. Put the offer out there and see what happens. He could even sweeten the deal by _showing_ Hanzo how his body responds to touch. If Jesse can notice the sensitivity in Hanzo’s uncut cock then surely Hanzo would notice that when someone kisses the spot behind his pierced ear that it sends a shiver cascading down his spine. 

Shit—wouldn’t it be a wild ride hooking up in each other’s bodies?

“Oh, fuck,” Jesse mutters when he feels Hanzo’s cock twitch. He tries in vain to think of the most unsexy thoughts he can, specifically the time on an Overwatch retreat where he had the pleasure of sharing a sauna with Torbjörn who had _no_ towel covering himself, but he can feel it growing in his hands. 

At least Hanzo won’t have issues _performing._

Huffing, he tucks himself into his underwear and washes his hands, ignoring the straining he can feel in his underwear. He hears his message tone as he steps back into the room and picks up his phone, it’s a response from Hanzo: _Well since you woke me, you may cook me breakfast._

“Whoops,” Jesse chuckles, typing a new message: _I’ll cook you the best breakfast you’ll have ever had. 10 minutes?_

Almost instantly, Jesse receives a thumbs-up emoji. He drops his phone onto the bed, picks up Hanzo’s bag sitting beside his nightstand and digs through it for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. This little detour has killed Hanzo’s bodily response thankfully, and taking a breath, ready to face whoever might be awake at this hour, he pops his hat on his head to serve as a reminder that he is inside Hanzo’s body and leaves his room, headed straight for the mess hall. 

He knows Hanzo will want his standard breakfast of rice, salmon and eggs, so he puts on a pot of water on the stove to boil, grabs two frying pans, and also fills up the kettle to boil too. By the time Jesse is done gathering everything out of the fridge, Hanzo walks in, dragging his feet, hair a complete mess, and the bags under his eyes have bags under them. 

Jesse doesn’t think he’s seen himself that haggard in years. 

“That bad, huh?” Jesse asks, offering a sympathetic smile.

“I did not sleep,” Hanzo mumbles, rubbing his eye with his palm. “I keep bumping into things because I am not used to this big body.”

“Sorry,” Jesse says, reaching for the cupboard above the stove for mugs, and for the first time, he's really starting to notice the difference in Hanzo’s height. He opens the doors and frowns—he can’t see the back of the cupboard. Standing on his toes, his frown deepens—he has to stand on his goddamn toes. He thought Hanzo was only an inch or two shorter than him, but it must be the way he carries himself. Hanzo is _fucking_ short. 

What is interesting though, is that Jesse has _never_ noticed Hanzo stand on his toes to reach the back of this cupboard. Maybe he does it quickly. Maybe he doesn’t at all and just grabs any random mug he can reach. 

Pulling two mugs down, Jesse places them on the counter and looks at Hanzo. “Tea or coffee?”

Hanzo blinks blearily, gaze shifting to Jesse slowly. “I think I will have coffee.”

“Easy,” Jesse says. He walks over to the pantry, grabs the bag of coffee beans, and hears a thud, followed by a groan from behind him. “Everything—”

“ _Fuck_ your _infernally_ large body!”

Jesse turns fast, seeing Hanzo with his hand pressed to his forehead. He looks at the cupboard Jesse left open, slams it shut with so much force it’s a miracle it doesn’t fall off its hinges, and cautiously pulls his hand away, looks at it before pressing it back to his head. 

“Sorry—”

“Stop saying you are sorry! There is nothing to be sorry for!”

“I left the cupboard open for one.”

Hanzo glares at Jesse, takes a breath and holds it, just for a moment, before letting it all out in a large rush. “I am used to being able to walk under these cupboards without clipping the corner,” he murmurs.

“Let me see,” Jesse says, placing the coffee down on the bench and approaching Hanzo. Hanzo pulls his hand away and Jesse winces. “Well, you've got a nice indent right in the centre of your forehead. It'll probably bruise, form a lump at the very least.”

“Perfect,” Hanzo mutters. He sighs, his shoulders sag and he looks so damned depressed. “I apologise for damaging your body. And for snapping.”

“It's all right.” Jesse turns his attention to the coffee, giving Hanzo space because he knows that the last thing he would want is someone hovering over him. Pouring the beans in the machine and placing a mug on the drip tray, he selects double shot and presses start. He waits for the beans to stop grinding before continuing, “Far as I can see, the only disadvantage to being shorter than my usual height is not being able to reach things I normally would.” He looks at Hanzo, smiling sympathetically. “As I said, you copped the raw end this deal.”

“It will take some time to adjust. I did not think there would be this much of a learning curve.”

“Was thinking the same thing this morning,” Jesse chuckles, pulling the mug away when the coffee finishes dripping in. “Cream?”

Hanzo shakes his head, dropping his hand. “I should not.”

“You sure? If there's one silver lining, since you're in my body, you'll be able to indulge in lactose-rich products.”

It takes Hanzo a moment, and seeing his smile grow wider with each passing moment is making Jesse’s morning. “Yes. I would love some cream. Do we have any cheese? Ice cream?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Jesse chuckles. “It's still breakfast.”

“Later,” Hanzo replies, easing back into a small smile. 

“Yep,” Jesse breathes. It’s good to see Hanzo smiling, and Jesse plans on keeping it that way. “So ah... It's unwise if I have any dairy?”

“Unwise, but not impossible.”

It’s probably way too personal a question to ask, but Jesse wants to know what he’s in for. “What happens?”

“The toilet becomes your best friend.”

Jesse chuckles. “Front or back?”

“Back,” Hanzo says quietly, smiling sheepishly.

“Back I can manage.”

“You will have to survive the cramps first.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

Hanzo hums thoughtfully. “Seven.”

“Seven on the pain scale and the runs?” Jesse cannot help but grin. “It _might_ just be worth it.” 

“There will be almost uncontrollable flatulence too, but as I discovered last night, that will _not_ be an issue.”

“Everyone farts,” Jesse replies, shrugging. “So… Do you wanna get ice cream later?”

Hanzo smiles, almost bashfully. “I would like that.”

“A’ight,” Jesse breathes, turning his attention back to the fridge. He opens the door and holds there for a moment; he can only imagine how happy Hanzo will be being able to eat ice cream without his body betraying him. Hanzo's in the worse situation between the two of them, but if Jesse can give him this one thing, then any intestinal distress he’ll face will all be worth it to see that smile on Hanzo’s face.

Pulling the cream out of the fridge, he glances at Hanzo as he tends to the boiling water, before heading to the pantry for rice and oil. Jesse notices Hanzo has a spring in his step, almost like a renewed determination. He was so pissed off last night, and looked like absolute shit this morning, so seeing him like this makes Jesse feel incredibly happy right now. 

They work in tandem, cooking breakfast in companionable silence, working around each other like as if it were carefully choreographed. While this isn't the first time they've cooked breakfast side by side, this time feels different, like there's a level of closeness bridging them. 

The kind of closeness one might experience after spending the night together. 

Obviously, they haven't done _that_ yet. Previously, there would be a lack of synergy, they'd get in each other's way. Maybe it _is_ the fact that he's seen what Hanzo has to offer. Before now, Jesse would admire Hanzo from a distance. Wonder what he looked like under his gi. Thought about what he would be like in bed, on more than one occasion.

Even though he had the thought this morning, now that he’s had time to stew on it, he knows it'll be weird to make a move now. When they switch back, though, Jesse's going to leap into Hanzo's arms and tell him he’s wanted to fuck his brains out for months. Looking back at it now, he should have said something to Hanzo weeks ago, told him how he felt, what he wanted to do to him. Then _this_ might not have been so awkward if they were already together.

But he _couldn't_. Sure, everyone knows Hanzo has a thing for him. Sure, he might have let slip to Fareeha that there's a certain teammate he would _love_ to fall into bed with. Sure, he knows that there's a childish betting pool on base regarding _who_ will make a move first, and _when_ they will crack, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It makes zero fucking sense—he's not one to be indecisive with something he wants; _carpe diem_ and all that, but something was stopping him, and whenever he thought he could ask Hanzo out, or put the moves on him, he couldn't get the words to leave his mouth. It felt like there was an invisible barrier in the way that he couldn't get past.

It almost felt like a protection measure, because on more than one occasion, he questioned whether _everyone_ has read Hanzo wrong. 

Pushing those thoughts aside considering all notions to pursue a sexual relationship with Hanzo is now moot, he serves up breakfast and carries his plate to the table, sitting down with Hanzo. “Shit, I'm starving.”

“I have a high caloric intake thanks to my sessions at the gym. It is something I ask you to maintain for as long as you have my body.”

Jesse grins. “So you're saying I have your permission to eat as much as I want?” 

Hanzo glances up at him, and Jesse knows from the devilish smirk that he is about to cop a good comeback. “There is no point asking permission for something you already do.”

“Hey," Jesse says in mock offence, "I watch what I eat.”

“Says the person who willingly eats an entire bowl of onion rings to himself knowing it gives him gas.”

“You only live once,” Jesse says with a shrug, and when Hanzo looks up at him deadpan, he winks. 

Hanzo just rolls his eyes, digging into his breakfast. _This_ is a little more like the normal Hanzo that Jesse is used to, not the person he was this morning. Jesse doesn't blame him, though, he wished it was a dream too. And the fact that Hanzo hasn't slept can't be making things better.

“So you couldn’t sleep?”

Hanzo looks up at him, mouth full of food, pulls up and chews, almost thoughtfully. “My— _your_ body was tired, my mind was not.”

“I know that mood.”

“I must have dozed off at some point because you _did_ wake me with your message.”

Jesse nods, smiling sympathetically. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Who needs sleep anyway,” Hanzo says dryly, digging into his rice again. 

Jesse tucks into his breakfast, a little happy that Hanzo is somewhat himself again. He will take dry, snarky Hanzo over sad, angry Hanzo any day. 

* * *

“Jesse McCree on a treadmill? Never thought I would see the day!”

Jesse rolls his eyes, glaring at Angie. “Hanzo works out on a treadmill, the least I can do is keep up with him. Ain’t goin’ to run, but I can walk briskly.”

“And I appreciate it.”

Jesse watches Hanzo use the leg press machine. Granted he only has 25 kg on the moment instead of the usual 80 kg Jesse can do, but it’s a start. The injury doesn’t seem to be bothering him, which is a good sign. 

It is a strange sight, watching _his_ body from a distance, getting lost in the moment and jerking a leg by accident because his legs are pushing upwards while he himself isn’t. He stops watching Hanzo after that, focusing instead on this light jog he’s got going. 

That’s when he realises that he doesn’t hate this. His legs aren’t aching, his lungs aren’t burning. That is probably a testament to how unfit his body is. Yeah, he's got muscle mass, defined pecs and abs which he's sure as shit proud of for all the effort he puts in, but endurance? Make him run a distance? That's where he's lacking. 

Maybe, just maybe, he'll keep this up once he's back in his own body. It’ll suck to start, but if he can briskly walk, then jog, then run? He might be a little more confident in chasing a perp on a mission without gasping for breath after ten seconds.

Feeling an itch on his chest, Jesse brings his hand up, but nicks Hanzo’s pierced nipple. He _moans,_ so damn loud it startles Angie, she practically jumps so high she almost knocks her head on the ceiling. 

“Jesse, are you okay?” she asks, hand pressed to her chest.

“Peachy,” Jesse breathes, slowing to a walk. It hurt, _so_ fucking much, but it felt so fucking _amazing_ he's not sure if he's in pain or aroused. 

Licking his lips as he stops the treadmill, he grips onto the handles tightly. Right now, the only thing on his mind is to tug at the piercing. It goes against _everything_ he's into, he doesn't do nipple play, only because the things are so damned sensitive under touch they _hurt_ just _thinking_ about them.

It hurts now, the pain blooms across his pec, and he's not entirely sure that it's not bleeding under there. But his body is translating the pain into pleasure, and as much as he wills it, he can't think of anything else but the fact that Hanzo _must_ get off playing with his nipple. 

He can feel his cock swelling, and there is _no_ way he will stand here and willingly get hard _in front_ of Angie and Hanzo— _while_ he is in Hanzo’s body. He needs to check the nipple at the very least for damage, something he won't do here because Hanzo’s looking right at him too and he’s not about to check him out and potentially feel himself up while he’s in Hanzo's presence. 

“Excuse me,” Jesse says quietly, stepping off the treadmill and into the adjoining bathroom. 

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he cautiously pulls up his shirt and breathes a sigh of relief when there is no blood present. _That_ would have been awkward. He turns on the cold tap, holds his hand under the faucet for a moment before pressing it to his pec, and the cold is instantaneously relieving. 

With the pain subsiding, Jesse pulls his hand away. He stares at the piercing, a silver ring with a captive bead, and it's _gorgeous_. Jesse knew it was there, it's a little hard to miss when Hanzo wears the occasional tight t-shirt, but thanks to their current circumstance, it's the first time he's _seen_ it.

Yesterday, he wanted nothing to do with it, barely giving it a moment's glance because the thought of of a needle piercing his nipple made him a little faint, but now, every single fibre of his being is _begging_ him to touch it because it felt so fucking good.

He's not sure what comes over him as he lifts the piercing gently away from his chest with a shaky finger. He pulls gently, and _Christ_ it feels so fucking good, it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick. He slides his hand down his body, over his erection—

Jesse catches his reflection in the mirror and sees Hanzo looking back. He rips his hands away, gripping the sink tightly and closing his eyes. 

He breathes in deep, scolding himself for getting carried away. What would have happened if Hanzo caught him? Or anyone else, for that matter. He told himself he wouldn't step over that line yesterday and yet here he is, ready to fucking jack off in the gym bathroom while Angie and Hanzo are literally on the other side of the door. 

With a frustrated huff, Jesse lowers his shirt and turns on the tap again, wetting his face. He looks at Hanzo's dark eyes in the mirror, then the bridge piercing. He can't just see it in the reflection, he can see it on the corners of his eyes. But that's not the worst part: he can also _feel_ the balls pressing into his skin.

And right on fucking cue, the shirt rubs against the pierced nipple, and _that_ is now sensitive as all fuck. How the _fuck_ Hanzo can live with these piercings day in and day out is a miracle.

Jesse closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and after a moment once everything feels like it’s subsiding, he opens them again. He doesn’t think he can do more running, having the shirt rub against his nipple will be too distracting. He could take his shirt off, but that would be revealing _Hanzo’s_ body, not his own. There’s no way he’s going to ask him, because he doesn’t want to have the, ‘Oh, hey, can I take off your shirt? Your nipple is sensitive and I literally cannot handle it,’ conversation in front of Angie. 

He thinks about what else he can do today. Bicep curls _could_ work. Weights as a whole might be doable in the short term at the very least, until he figures out what the hell he can do to protect the nipple.

With a nod to his reflection, he leaves the bathroom, stepping back into the gym. Hanzo has stopped his leg presses, he's taking a break while having a near-silent conversation with Angie. 

Focusing on two 20 kg dumbbells, it takes Jesse a moment to realise that lifting 20 kg is child's play in Hanzo’s body. Usually, Jesse considers 20 kg a good workout, but clearly, it's a cakewalk for Hanzo. He thinks about maybe moving onto the bench press, seeing if he can beat his record for 120 kg he achieved at twenty-eight years of age, but that would be cheating since he’s not in his body. And while he's sure that Hanzo _could_ do it, he doesn’t want to push Hanzo’s body to the limit and accidentally injure him. 

The nipple is enough damage for one day.

He decides to stick with the 20 kg dumbbells in each hand, and despite barely any movement in his t-shirt, he can still feel the fabric rub over the pierced nipple. Over and over, back and forth, but it doesn't feel _good,_ not like before; it's like someone is rubbing a piece of sandpaper over it. How the hell does Hanzo put up with this? It’s near on unbearable—

“Jesse?”

Jesse blinks into the present, looks up and sees Hanzo standing in front of him. “Hey. Sorry.” He places the dumbbells down. “Got lost in my mind. What’s up?”

“Were you still interested in getting some ice cream later?”

“Absolutely,” Jesse says, smiling. “Ain’t never gonna turn it down.”

“After lunch? I wish to attend to a couple of things.” Then Hanzo smiles sheepishly. “Sneak in a nap if I can.”

“Sounds like a plan. Three?”

“I will see you at three o'clock.” Hanzo bows his head then glances at Angie. “Dr. Ziegler.”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Hanzo.”

With one last glance at Jesse, Hanzo leaves the gym. The moment Hanzo is out of sight, Jesse pulls the shirt away from his chest and almost sighs in absolute pleasure. 

Now that his nipple is no longer on fire, Jesse looks at Angie as she focuses on her tablet. “So how'd he do?”

“Good. His recovery is going very well, he should only need a couple more sessions before he can be himself. Or be yourself.” She looks up at him, a frown pinches her brows. “Make sure he doesn’t do more than your body can take.”

“Yeah, I'll keep an eye on him, but he’s probably goin’ to hate that, too,” Jesse mutters.

"How so?”

Jesse holds his breath. That little statement practically opened up the floodgates and he didn't realise just how much he _needs_ to vent before he loses his mind. She said he could speak to her in confidence, whenever he needed to. “Doctor-patient?” he asks, exhaling.

Angie puts her tablet into standby, approaches him and sits down, giving her full attention. “Of course.”

“He didn't sleep last night.”

“He told me.”

“Ah.” Jesse rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing his chin. He’ll _never_ get used to the slope of Hanzo’s jaw, he’s certain. “I know it’s only been a day, but with the painkillers, the mission, _everything_ yesterday, it should have knocked him out cold.” 

"It is a unique circumstance," Angie says. "It is hardly surprising that his mind would not shut off."

Jesse hums. He knows Hanzo, how he analyses just about everything from every possible angle. He was probably trying to figure out how he could fix this. He’s reminded of all the little comments Hanzo has made, how it’s an inconvenience, and his reaction this morning...

“I don't think he's coping," Jesse breathes, looking at Angie. 

"Oh?"

"This morning, he bumped his head on a cupboard door, said ‘fuck your infernal body’ or something like that.”

“That’s… that's a little extreme.”

"Yeah," Jesse murmurs, clasping his hands together. “I didn’t take offence to it, but he’s definitely struggling. More than me.”

“And how are you doing?”

“Fine. Except for the nipple piercing.” He huffs a sardonic laugh, he’s not sure he’s fully recovered from _that_ incident. “That can go to hell.”

Angie smirks, just a little upwards quirk of her lips. “I have tape if you would like.”

_“Please._ I'm gonna need it for the next little while. I keep forgetting it’s there and scratch over it. I’m goin’ to tear it out, I swear.” 

“Then definitely tape. Come on,” she jerks her head as she stands, “I have some in the medbay.”

Jesse nods, picking up his drink bottle and towel. “After you.”

“So,” Angie says as they step into the corridor. Jesse knows that gossipy tone when he hears it, and it immediately has him rolling his eyes. “Ice cream?”

“Hanzo told me he’s lactose intolerant, and I mentioned this morning that he could indulge while he’s got my body." Jesse smiles, remembering Hanzo's grin. "His face lit up like a kid at Christmas.”

“So you’re making him happy now?”

“He’s copped it pretty bad,” Jesse says as they round a corner. “He got my broken body _and_ the gunshot wound to deal with. Least I can do is make him happy.” He glances at Angie, and she looks at him with a single suspicious eyebrow raised. “He didn’t sleep last night, and I’m worried it’s going to get worse.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s Hanzo," Jesse replies, throwing his hands in the air. "He works on routine, on rigid familiarity. Right now his life has gone to shit and nothing is familiar.”

“He told you this?”

“Just the not sleeping part. But the relief that crossed his face when he eventually got to his room last night told enough of _that_ story.”

Angie hums as she presses the console by the medbay doors, and they open. “He did mention to me that he did not sleep, but is hopeful that it is a once-off.” She approaches a cupboard, digging through it. “Sounds like you’re getting quite familiar with him, though.”

“I’m _in_ his body. I can officially say I’ve seen him naked. How much more familiar can I get?”

Angie turns, tape in hand and a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Sounds like you want to get a little _more_ familiar.”

Jesse scoffs. “Really?” He holds out his hand. “Didn’t think you were the high school type.”

“When it comes to my favourite person, I want to know _all_ the gossip.” She takes a step forward, placing the tape in his hand. 

“You only call me your favourite person when you _want_ something,” Jesse says, eyeing her suspiciously. "This has something to do with the bet, doesn't it?"

Angie gasps, _dramatically_ , pressing her hand to her chest. "Jesse, I would _never_ manipulate you in such a way." Her smile betrays every single word, and Jesse raises an eyebrow. “All Iwant to know if you’ve considered that this is a date.”

Jesse shakes his head vehemently. “Ain’t a date.”

“You and Hanzo are going off base together to eat ice cream. Some would consider that a romantic gesture."

"Angie—"

"Do _you_ intend on having some?"

"Well, yeah, it's ice cream. Who wouldn't?"

"That's my point," Angie says, grinning. _"You_ are going to eat ice cream, knowing Hanzo’s body cannot process lactose and _you_ will feel the effects.”

"Just want to make him as happy as I can is all."

Angie raises an eyebrow. "Is _that_ all?"

"Yes—" Jesse takes a breath and holds it. He won't lie, he _loves_ making Hanzo happy. He loves seeing his smile, he loves the way his nose wrinkles when he laughs, and he _loves_ the rare times he laughs so hard he snorts. If Jesse could, he'd make Hanzo laugh every damn minute of every damn day—

Oh. 

_Oh._

Shit, it's so obvious, it's as blinding as the midday sun. 

He is in love with Hanzo.

Meeting Angie's gaze, he exhales in a rush. “We still talking in confidence?”

Angie practically bounces at those words, and she nods furiously.

“You can _try_ to contain your excitement, y'know?”

“I knew you had a crush on him!”

“Christ,” Jesse hisses, reaching for his hat to cover his face which fucking annoyingly isn’t there because he works out without it. “Am I that obvious?”

“You have love hearts in your eyes whenever he’s on the training range. But…” Angie smiles wide.

“But?”

“The love hearts in his eyes are _much_ bigger.”

Jesse scoffs. Surely this is a joke. Hanzo. In _love_ with him? “Excuse me?”

“You should have seen him when Lena poured that water on you the other day. I thought he was going to combust.”

“Naw,” Jesse sighs, shaking his head. “He ain’t in love me.”

“He risked his life for you.”

“He’s a good guy. Would have done it for anyone.”

“True. But he didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“ _He_ didn’t want to be left behind. Not that I blame him for this,” he gestures down at himself, “had the roles been reversed I would have done the exact same thing.”

Angie rolls her eyes and backhands him on the bicep. “Jesse McCree, could you be any _more_ dense?”

“Ow,” Jesse says, dramatically cupping his bicep and feigning hurt. “Come on now.”

“Hanzo _wants_ you. I’m not sure he has feelings for you besides lust, because he doesn’t look at you like he wants to hold your hand and kiss you gently. He looks at you like—” Angie looks him up and down, gesticulating, “you _know_...” 

_Like he wants to raw me into next week_ , Jesse finishes in his mind, because there is no way he could utter those words in front of anyone. 

Hanzo _does_ intensely check him out, but he hasn't _acted_ on it. It’s lust, nothing more. While it’s flattering being noticed in _that_ way, Hanzo just wants to fuck him. There are no love hearts in his eyes. There’s no _love_.

“I suppose…” he murmurs. “I don’t see it, though.”

“You _will_ see it when you go on your date.”

“Ain’t a date.” 

“Does he know that?”

“Can’t a couple of friends go out for ice cream?” Jesse asks, exasperated.

“Usually, yes. But with you two, who _clearly_ want each other…” Angie waggles her damn eyebrows and Jesse rolls his eyes. “ _Anything’s_ possible.”

“' _Anything'_ huh?" Jesse leans against the biobed, playing with the end of the tape idly. Even if this does end up being a proper date, he's not going to make a move on Hanzo. It's one thing to think about how wild it'd be, it's another to act on it. “Ain’t going to do _anything_ while I’m in his body.”

“I have to admit… I was wondering if you discussed that.”

"Discussed what?"

"Touching in a…” she purses her lips. “Dealing with certain _growing_ problems and..." she makes a jerk-off motion with her hand which honestly is _worse_ than if she just said the words. 

Jesse scoffs. “You were wondering if I was going to ask if I could jerk off in his body?” Jesse cannot help but grin, capitalising on this opportunity. “Do you regularly think about Hanzo jerking off?”

“Please,” Angie retorts, rolling her eyes. “I have more important things to think about.”

“Don’t get all defensive,” Jesse teases. “You sure _you_ ain’t jealous of this date?”

“So _you’re_ calling it a date now?”

“ _You_ called it a date.”

Angie smirks, folding her arms over her chest smugly. “And you just did too.”

“I…” Jesse stares at Angie, his mouth snaps shut. Damn her and her methods of proving a point. “I suppose it _could_ be considered a date. I’ve… previously considered asking him if he would like to hook up.”

Angie squeals. “I knew it!”

“It wasn't my intention when I asked though, so I ain’t treating it as one. As I said, I’m certain he’s not interested in me other than fulfilling whatever sexual fantasy plays in his mind.”

“Just observe him this afternoon. See if he says or does anything which would imply otherwise. And report back to me the minute you are back on base. I want to know the details.”

“As long as it all remains in confidence. I don't want you gossiping to Lena, 'cause she'll tell Lúcio, then _he'll_ go to Baptiste and Genji and _that's_ something I _don't_ need.”

Angie stands up straight and puts on her Doctor face. “Of course.”

“Then fine. I’ll be happy to report that nothing out of the ordinary was said or done, before promptly returning to my quarters as the intolerance kicks in and kicks my ass.” He huffs a laugh. “Or _blows out_ my ass.”

“I wish I had something to help with its effects," Angie says, smiling sympathetically.

Jesse hums. “You’re telling me. We can treat a gunshot wound in a manner of hours, but can’t cure intolerance.”

“The wonders of modern medicine,” Angie says. “But as your consulting physician, please try to keep your intake as low as you can. It will be better for you in the long term.”

“Will do, doc.” Jesse looks at the tape in his hand and holds it up. “Thanks again.”

“Any time. Enjoy your date.”

Jesse playfully rolls his eyes, gives her a lazy salute and leaves the medbay. He thinks about what she said, that Hanzo looks at him like he’s in _love_ with him, and now that he’s had time to breathe, it wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing to pursue a romantic relationship with him. Angie’s not wrong—while it wasn’t his intention to ask him out when he made the offer, he could test out the waters, see if Hanzo _is_ interested and then when they’re back in their own bodies, he can make a move.

Or maybe Hanzo will make a move if what Angie was saying is true.

In any case, and he has a silent chuckle to himself as he tosses the tape in the air and catches it, this whole ordeal will most definitely bring them closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also upped the chapter count cause I figured out how to break the final chapter into two parts 😉


	4. Could It Be a Date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live, bitches.
> 
> a longer than intended break, but this chapter needed significant reworks. also coming off the back of fictober i needed a little writing break lmao.
> 
> teensy warning for noncon - such is the nature of body swap fics. it's a small lapse in judgement that is quickly rectified before things get going. probably not worth even mentioning but figured i'd warn just in case.
> 
> enjoy!

Jesse sits down at the table, bowl of ice cream in his hands. Looking back up at him are two small scoops of chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles; about a third of what he would usually indulge in. It’s hard to believe that these two tiny, innocuous balls of frozen cream can cause so much pain.

He doesn’t dig in, not yet. He glances at Hanzo, finally at the counter after spending at least ten minutes in indecision paralysis. Not that Jesse blames him; who wouldn’t consider every flavour if they were given the opportunity to taste the dozens this shop has to offer in a single once-in-a-lifetime binge? Jesse’s certain he’s _never_ seen Hanzo this excited, Hanzo practically bounced inside the ice cream parlour and Jesse is sure he would’ve pushed his way through a group of nuns to get to the display case.

Placing his spoon in the bowl, he waits for Hanzo. It’s the polite thing to do, of course, but If this little endeavour is going to cause excruciating cramps, the longer he delays it, the better. As he stares at the empty seat opposite, his thoughts drift back to the drive into town. No matter how many times he analyses every moment, turns over every memory to look at it from a different angle, the only thing that is abundantly clear is that Hanzo _isn’t_ in love with him. Hanzo barely said two words, he instead spent all of it looking out the window. Jesse wouldn’t consider _that_ the behaviour of someone who thought this was a date.

Granted, Jesse didn’t instigate conversation either. While his realisation that he is in love with Hanzo is raw, laid bare only a couple of short hours ago, he hasn’t truly _accepted_ it. There is every chance that Hanzo isn’t interested, and declaring his love would probably be a friendship killer. The last thing he wants is to ruin the foundations of trust that they’ve built. 

Before his eye-opening conversation with Angie, this venture was just a couple of guys going into town on a summer’s day for some ice cream. Now, he’s stuck in this horrid purgatory, a Schrödinger’s Cat scenario where this simultaneously is and isn’t a date, because Hanzo hasn’t said _or_ done anything leading right up to this very moment to indicate that _he_ sees it as one. For all Jesse knows, Hanzo was thinking about which flavours of ice cream he would like to try, which is _why_ he was so silent the entire trip up.

He could’ve just been distracted. He could also not be interested in pursuing a romantic relationship.

Jesse huffs. Curse Angie for putting these thoughts into his head. 

Hanzo sits down, grinning from ear to ear. His bowl of ice cream is massive; from underneath the mountain of whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles he can see pink and yellow and purple balls, and they’re just the ones he can _see._

“I hope this isn’t too much,” Hanzo says sheepishly.

Jesse smiles, waving his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Indulge, you deserve it.” He then looks at his bowl. “I hope _mine_ isn’t too much.”

Hanzo hums as he glances into his tiny bowl. “That is about as much I would have if going on a bender.” He offers a sympathetic smile. “You will feel it later.”

“You only live once,” Jesse says, shrugging it off. Almost like it’s an omen, he feels a gargle in his stomach. It’s just ice cream, he tells himself.

Ice cream that will give him a serious case of the runs.

Picking up his spoon, he is about to dig into the little balls of death when he hears Hanzo—hears _himself_ —moan. Jesse’s heard that same fucking moan all his life, either in the solitude of his room, with nothing but himself and his hand _or_ shared with a partner on top of him. 

It should _not_ be fucking heard in an ice cream parlour, for _all_ the world to witness.

He risks a look up at Hanzo, and on his face is pure pleasure. That’s his orgasm face. Hanzo is having a foodgasm _in Jesse’s body_ and Jesse feels suddenly hot. Is he… is he _turned on_ by his own moans, or is this _Hanzo’s_ body reacting to it? Either way, as the moment only stretches, he waits for someone to shout out, ‘I’ll have what he’s having,’ from that damned movie which has somehow withstood the test of time and _thankfully,_ glancing left then right at the other people in the parlour, Hanzo hasn’t drawn any attention. 

Hanzo’s eyes open, he looks at Jesse with a blissed-out smile on his lips, and Jesse is almost certain he had an _actual_ orgasm. “This is good.”

Jesse scoffs a laugh. “Just _good,_ huh?”

“This establishment has excellent gelato, but their ice cream is better.”

“Sure is,” Jesse says, swallowing thickly as he ignores the tightness in his jeans. He looks into his bowl, at the ice cream that might as well be poisoned, and the weight of Hanzo’s intolerance hits him at full force. He had no idea that something as simple as ice cream would mean everything to Hanzo. Dairy is something that Jesse takes for granted, and right now, as those two delicious balls look back up at him, begging to be eaten lest they form a puddle of cream, he regrets not getting gelato. Hanzo said he should and yet he willfully ignored that advice.

But, there’s no going back now. Scooping into his ice cream, he brings the spoon up to his mouth and stops. “How long have I got?”

“An hour, give or take.”

“Shit,” Jesse says with a chuckle. “Better get a move on, then.” Without giving it any more thought, he shoves the spoon in his mouth. He lets the ice cream sit on his tongue, savouring its intense flavour. “I gotta say, chocolate is my go-to, and it’s _never_ tasted as good as it does now.”

" _That_ would be because you smoke like a chimney. I— _you_ haven't had a cigar in at least twenty-four hours, and I can _still_ taste the lingering tobacco despite brushing my teeth several times."

"Yeah, it'll stick.” Jesse chuckles softly. “Sorry about that, too.”

Hanzo shrugs. “Your body, your rules.”

Jesse tucks into his ice cream, watching Hanzo’s joy as he discovers each flavour. Hanzo wolfs it down, scraping the sides for every single drop. Jesse’s sure he’s mere moments away from licking the damned bowl. “I think you got all of it.”

“Not quite,” Hanzo says, leaving his seat. He approaches the counter, and after a moment, the guy returns with a bag. Hanzo bows his head, and when he returns, he’s _beaming_. He opens the bag and inside are three cartons of ice cream. “To share.”

“Sure,” Jesse says with a chuckle, standing up. “Still wanna get cheese?”

Hanzo nods fervently. They quickly make their way to the deli across the street, Hanzo picks no less than ten different wheels, then they make their way back to the base. Jesse uses the guise of Hanzo’s ice cream melting to drive a little over the speed limit, but the reality is he doesn’t want to suffer _any_ discomfort while behind the wheel. Hanzo spends the entire ride back looking at his haul dairy with the same level of pride as a cat who made their first kill, while Jesse is sure he blanches paler and paler when his guts start churning.

By the time they’re back on base, Jesse’s got a hand over his stomach as it turns into one aggressive knot. Hanzo keeps up with his long strides, thankful that he doesn’t mention what is happening to him right now.

“Thanks for the lovely afternoon,” Jesse says, trying to smile but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace. “But ah… _things_ are happening.”

Hanzo nods solemnly. “If you require any assistance, you may reach out.”

“Ahh,” Jesse chuckles, “I’ll be fine.”

Hanzo places a hand on his shoulder. “I will be available if you would like to message while you… purge. I have lived with this for my entire life, it will not be pretty.”

“I think I can go it alone.” The mere thought of texting Hanzo while he _purges_ is disgusting. What happens between a man and his toilet should remain that way.

Hanzo only hums. He doesn’t remove his hand. “Thank you for today. It was… nice.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then, the hand on his shoulder trails down his arm, stopping when Hanzo’s hand is in his. “I’ll see you later?”

Jesse licks his too dry lips, his fingers twitch in Hanzo’s hand. Any other circumstance, he’d throw caution to the wind and kiss him. Why, _why_ , is this happening when he is about to take what will probably be the biggest shit of his life? “Yeah. When this is over.”

With a smile and a nod, Hanzo steps away. Jesse looks at his hand, Hanzo’s residual touch still tingles. That was the first clear indication that Hanzo saw this as _more_ than friends going out for ice cream. Jesse, for a brief, fleeting moment is awash with a wave of giddiness, before promptly being stabbed in the gut with a sharp cramp and sudden urgency to sit on the toilet.

He can unpack these thoughts and feelings later. Right now, his only thought is _purge_.

* * *

“It’s not good news.”

Hanzo suppresses the urge to _tsk_ and roll his eyes, focusing instead on analysing Winston's face, trying to work out _just_ how bad this news is.

“Can’t be worse than lactose intolerance,” Jesse says with a sickly groan, sitting next to Hanzo. 

Hanzo only received one text from Jesse the night before, which read, _I had a good run. Take me out back and put me out of my misery. It’s the humane thing to do._

_Not in my body_ , Hanzo replied back. Jesse’s response was a series of crying emojis. 

“ _Now_ you understand why I avoid dairy.”

“I never wanna see anything made from lactose ever again.”

Satya clears her throat, and with it, his retort, _was it worth it for me?_ dies on Hanzo’s lips. 

“Apologies,” Hanzo says, giving Winston and Satya his full attention. “How bad is this news?”

“The fault is not with the teleporter,” Satya says. “I have run multiple diagnostics and had the results confirmed not only by Winston but also Torbjörn and Brigitte: the teleporter _is_ running perfectly, and _was_ running perfectly on the day of the accident.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Jesse murmurs, rubbing his chin in that way he does when he is frustrated. He scrubs a hand through his beard, and seeing Jesse do it in _his_ body, sending the hairs of his goatee sticking out in every direction, is _strange_. He fights the urge to reach out and bat Jesse's hand away.

“What is the next course of action?” Hanzo asks, folding his arms across his chest. “If there was no fault with the unit, it must be from an external source like an EMP.”

“We had considered an electromagnetic pulse,” Winston says, “but we couldn’t replicate it in the lab. Every pulse either shut down the teleporter or had no effect.”

“I think the next question to ask is _who_ would have the most to gain from this _mess_?” Satya asks. 

“Maybe _this_ ,” Jesse says, pointing between him and Hanzo, “switching us up, _wasn’t_ their goal. Maybe their thoughts were to take out two high-ranking agents, possibly more, by destabilizing the teleporter while we were in it and sending us to our deaths. We were deep in Talon territory, we know first hand that they use EMPs to their advantage.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Winston says. 

There is a stretch of silence. If there is no fault with the teleporter, and an EMP didn’t cause this mess, then _what?_ A freak accident? Random chance? If they cannot replicate the error in the first place then Hanzo will be stuck in Jesse’s body for the rest of his life, and lactose-rich diet aside, he wants his old body back so he can finally release this tide tension and get some fucking sleep.

“Actually,” Jesse says, and everyone turns their eyes on him. “There _is_ someone I can get in contact with, but it might be better coming from Baptiste.”

“Baptiste?” Satya asks, frowning.

“They’re a mutual contact.”

Winston hums, sitting back in his seat. “Can they be trusted?”

“With me? The moment they see Hanzo, and they’ll have to _see_ Hanzo in my body, _not_ me in Hanzo’s body, they’ll know something’s up. Baptiste though... They’re friends.”

“Who is this person?” Satya asks.

“Acquaintance,” Jesse says dismissively, apparently intent on keeping this contact’s identity to himself. “Winston, it’s a lead.”

Winston nods slowly, he doesn't say anything right away. Hanzo is in two minds about it; on the one hand, any information that could get them back in their normal bodies would be _fantastic_. On the other, it means another person will know—someone Jesse isn’t comfortable even sharing the name of—and who knows what they’ll do with whatever information Winston decides to divulge.

But, the payoff would absolutely be worth it. 

“All right,” Winston murmurs. “Athena: locate Baptiste and tell him I need to see him.”

“Of course,” Athena replies. There is a pause, then, “He is on his way.”

“Thank you,” Winston says, eyes meeting Jesse’s. “I’d like to sit in on the call.”

Jesse shakes his head. “They won’t talk. They’re smart, they’ll figure out something’s up if you’re there.” He taps a finger to his lips, then sighs. “As long as we’re not in view, it should be fine. But we _can’t_ speak. Baptiste has to.”

“Baptiste has to what?”

Hanzo glances at Baptiste standing in the doorway. He smiles reassuringly; he always had a good bedside manner.

“Come in,” Winston says, waving him in.

“Thanks,” Baptiste replies, sitting down. “So what’s this about?”

“Jesse tells me you and he share a mutual acquaintance that could have some leads or potential answers to this current predicament.”

Baptiste nods slowly, his eyes flit to Jesse. “We do.”

“Do _you_ think they'll be of any help?”

“They’ve got a thirst for knowledge, know a lot about a lot of things.” Baptiste nods again. “They’re as good a bet as any.”

“Do you trust them?” Winston asks.

“With my life,” Baptiste says, not skipping a beat.

“All right then,” Winston says. “Keep it vague, see if they know anything about transporters being targeted in attacks.” He pauses for a moment, looking between Hanzo and Jesse. “Let us know what she says.” 

Baptiste stands. “Will do.” Offering one last smile to Hanzo and Jesse, he pulls his phone from his pocket and leaves the room. 

“In the meantime, we’ll keep looking for other avenues.” Winston smiles, albeit it’s small and tired. “I appreciate your patience with this matter, I can only imagine just how frustrating it must be.” 

“Ain’t the worst,” Jesse says, placing a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “We’ll manage.”

Hanzo merely nods. The chances of them switching back are falling every day, and now they’re putting their trust in someone Hanzo doesn’t even know. He’ll manage? Jesse is speaking for himself. 

At this rate, Hanzo will never manage. He’ll die of exhaustion before he manages.

“Wanna go for a walk or something?” Jesse asks, squeezing his shoulder. “I could use the fresh air.” 

Before this news, he would have been all for it. Spending time with Jesse yesterday was one of the biggest highlights in recent memory and having the willpower to show him just how he felt, even if it was just through a meagre handhold, felt uplifting.

Now, though, that entire desire has been completely quashed.

“I’m feeling rather tired,” Hanzo replies. “Later?”

Jesse smiles softly, and for a brief moment, Hanzo thinks he catches disappointment in his eyes. “You betcha.” 

* * *

Bitter disappointment sits heavy in the pit of Hanzo’s stomach. 

It has been festering for a week now. An hour after Baptiste was tasked with talking to his contact, he reported back; his contact knew nothing—from Talon or otherwise—about anyone tampering with teleporters. They said they would look into it and get back in touch, but there has been nothing but silence from them since. 

With each passing day, Hanzo can feel his grip on reality slip further and further away from him. _Nothing_ he does makes him feel like his old self; from eating his usual meals, using the gym, even training with his bow. He is still adjusting to Jesse's limbs and some days he feels utterly clunky with the prosthetic, even though he has no other issues with it. And then there's sleeping. His body has resorted to quick microsleeps to make up for the sleepless nights—he’s fallen asleep on the couch in the rec room, sitting upright in the mess hall, in Winston’s lab as _he_ makes futile attempts to crack this perplexing puzzle. All he can manage is mere _minutes_ of precious sleep a day. 

And it’s all because of his _habit_.

It’s getting harder to resist touching himself. Hanzo is now _acutely_ aware of just how hard Jesse’s cock can get, he knows its basic shape, its length and girth, and the fact that he has a slight upwards curve. These days, Hanzo feels like he’s hard more often than not. The second he’s alone, he stands at full mast and it is so _distracting,_ he often has to resort to cold showers to kill the desire. 

He thought he had it under control and was doing quite well with resisting, but then this morning, after dreaming about the sweet relief that comes with masturbation, he woke up, groggily dry humping the bed in a fresh puddle of come. Yes, he slept, but his body— _Jesse’s body_ —is taking matters into its own hands to rid itself of this tension that is _clearly_ ready to snap. 

The shittiest part about the wet dream was that he didn’t experience the endorphin rush that gets him to sleep. All he was left with was guilt and embarrassment that had eaten him up so much he refused to leave his room for the entire day. 

But something has to give. He needs sleep, and the only other way he can do that is through a sedative so powerful Jesse’s body doesn’t do _that_ again. Right now, he is on a slippery slope; he is angry, he is frustrated, and all he fucking wants to do is grab himself, tug hard and fast and come, over and over and over again until he physically _can’t_ anymore. 

The medbay doors open, and Hanzo settles on Dr. Ziegler washing her hands at the sink. She’s not in her lab coat, she is dressed up more formal than her usual clothes. Her hair is down, her makeup is a little bolder. She is at the end of her shift, and possibly about to leave the base for a night out.

And he is about to dump _everything_ on her right now. Perfect.

“Hanzo,” she greets warmly. “How are you?”

Hanzo grunts, walking past her and into her office. He sits down with a huff, forcing his jaw to unclench so he can actually _speak_ to her.

“That bad?” She sits on her chair opposite him.

“I cannot sleep.”

Angela nods slowly. “Does Jesse know you’re here?”

“No.”

“All right.” Angela sits up straight, an air of professionalism washes over her. “Anything that is discussed here is bound by doctor-patient privilege. It stays between us.”

Hanzo nods. 

“Is there a reason why you can’t sleep?”

“There has been an interruption to my routine, and I cannot _do_ it, because I will not ask Jesse’s permission to—” Hanzo stops short, holding his breath. He hasn’t told _anyone_ about his _routine_ , and saying it aloud to another person makes him nervous. He knows masturbating every day is not a common thing, and he also knows that it’s an addiction that he has no intentions to kick, but it’s become such an integral part of his routine he’s at the point where he can’t function properly without it. 

As he looks into Dr. Ziegler’s eyes, the weight of telling her, his doctor _and_ colleague, that he masturbates nightly to be able to sleep truly settles on him. She will have that knowledge that whenever he announces that he is going to bed, and she will have an image in her mind of just _what_ those words truly mean. 

Dr. Ziegler is a professional, but a part of him is sure that _Angela_ will judge him for it. 

“I think I know where this is going,” Angela says softly, breaking Hanzo from his spiralling thoughts. “But please, tell me.”

Hanzo looks away, focusing on the slightly ajar filing cabinet door. He’s reached a point of no return now; she knows, even without him uttering the words. 

She’s already judging him.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Hanzo closes his eyes. “I use masturbation to get to sleep. It is a habit I picked up as a teenager to alleviate stress and it has stuck after all these years. Jesse and I did not discuss self-pleasure in each other’s bodies, and I am not going to ask if I can _violate_ him.”

“Masturbation is a common and popular remedy for stress relief,” Dr. Ziegler replies, softly, gently. Professionally. Still, he can’t meet her gaze. “This is a stressful situation, so I understand the apprehension. However, after all these years, and the clear effect it has been having on you in these last ten days, it’s more than just for stress relief, isn’t it?”

“It is an addiction,” Hanzo replies, barely a whisper. 

“If it were an addiction, you would have masturbated already and kept it a secret.”

“Jesse is my friend, and I will _not_ touch him without his permission.”

“Why haven’t you asked already?”

Hanzo’s eyes snap to meet Dr. Ziegler’s. “Because I am not _that_ desperate.”

Dr. Ziegler levels him a flat stare. “It seems you are because instead of asking for sleeping pills, you’ve chosen to talk about a very personal matter.” When Hanzo scowls, Dr. Ziegler holds out her hand, silencing him. “Jesse is possibly the easiest going person I know. He wouldn’t be offended that you want to— _need_ to masturbate. He would…” a small smile creeps on her lips. There Angela is, already judging him, already showing just how _pathetic_ his situation is. “He would encourage it. Possibly.”

Hanzo opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his throat. It’s not a judgement, it’s a flicker of a flame. It’s _hope_ that Hanzo is ever reluctant to grab hold of because he can’t _lose_ it. His mouth snaps shut, he swallows thickly. “Possibly,” Hanzo says. “It all hinges on _possibly_.”

“If he says no, then I can give you a prescription for sleeping pills. _That_ would require Jesse’s permission, however.”

 _If_ Jesse were to say no, that crushing defeat might just be the thing that utterly destroys him. No, he won’t allow himself to ask Jesse to jack off, he won’t put himself in a position that vulnerable. The rejection alone might just kill him before the lack of sleep does.

 _This_ vulnerability, even bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, is bad enough as it is.

“Sleeping pills are fine." Hanzo stands. "I will ask Jesse’s permission and return shortly.”

Angela inhales and exhales deeply. “May I talk to you as a friend?”

Hanzo frowns but gives a single, affirmatory nod as he sits back down. 

“We—as in everyone on the collective base—have seen the way you look at Jesse. And the way he looks at you. You’re dancing around each other while simultaneously being literally one hair’s breadth away from pinning each other to the wall and fucking there and then. He is _into_ you, and you are into him, and frankly, we are _sick_ of this sexual tension.”

“But before you said possibly—”

“The only person Jesse's talked about _you_ to is me. For the longest while, we were certain that we were starting to imagine it, that it was perhaps the thing between you was a competition going into overdrive. We honestly thought at first that you wanted to kill him with your bare hands. But this, your confirmation—”

“I haven’t confirmed anything—”

“But you have.” Angela smiles wide. “You care about him enough that you’re running on next to no sleep because you don’t want to masturbate. It’s literally a solo activity that _no one_ needs to know about and yet, here you are, sleep-deprived and stressed.”

Hanzo sighs, closing his eyes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Yes.”

“That is something new,” Hanzo replies, huffing a laugh. He settles on Angela again. “He would possibly _encourage_ me to masturbate in his body?”

“Possibly. He’s...” She takes in a breath. “How was ice cream last week?”

“Good..?” Hanzo looks at her, puzzled. “What has this got to do with anything?”

“How did you feel?”

Hanzo thinks back a week. Although it was just a short eight days ago, it feels like it was five years ago. Being in Jesse’s company was enjoyable, and if he was not on the verge of _purging,_ Hanzo would have given in and kissed him. Every part of him was _screaming_ for him to do it, to finally tell him how he feels because he _knows_ what being inside someone else’s body is like. Their afternoon might have ended with a simple hand-hold, and even though nothing has been acted upon since then, the thought of finally giving in, of telling Jesse how he feels is so strong he can barely fight it.

And _if_ Jesse has true, strong feelings for him, why _shouldn’t_ he take that plunge? The promise of release, of being in Jesse’s company _finally_ is too good to pass up, especially now that the risk of rejection is much lower than he had thought before walking into the infirmary.

“I take it the smile is a good thing?”

Blinking back into the present, Hanzo meets Angela’s gaze and nods. “Possibly is better than definitely not.”

“It is.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ziegler, you have given much to think about.” Hanzo stands and turns to leave.

“So that’s a no on sleeping pills?”

Hanzo cannot help the smile that spreads on his lips. He turns to face her. “I don’t think I will require them tonight.”

“Excellent.” Then, she slips back into doctor mode. “If you do, though, Baptiste can prescribe them. I am going off base.”

Hanzo nods. “Enjoy your night.”

Angela smirks slyly. “And you too.”

Hanzo leaves Angela’s office with a newfound spring in his step. Perhaps that is all he needed—a little push, confirmation that he _could_ talk to Jesse about his habit. He realises now it was something he could have easily done it, that he _should_ have just done it without bothering Angela with it, but he clearly needed a kick in the ass to do it. 

Jesse McCree is many things, but a prude is absolutely not one of them. Of _course,_ Jesse would be into it.

And it seems his body is _ready_ for this, he feels Jesse’s cock straining in his underwear.

As he passes the recreation room, he spots Jesse sitting on the couch, slouched in a way that is uniquely Jesse. Genji is on one side of him, Hana on the other, while Lena, Baptiste, and Winston share the other couch. They’re watching a movie, and Hanzo forgot that tonight was movie night. 

Jesse will be in there for the next several hours at least, this is the first of two films they are watching. And if there’s _one_ thing Jesse hates, it’s being interrupted during movie night.

Feeling his evening plans for sweet release slipping through his fingers, he swallows the lump in his throat and continues on.

“Hey, Hanzo,” Jesse calls out. Against his better judgement, Hanzo stops and backtracks, standing at the threshold. “Hey,” he smiles, “wanna join us?”

Hanzo’s cock twitches. His body is _desperate_ for Jesse and now, at this moment, he can feel that little flicker of hope extinguish. “No, thank you.”

“C’mon, we’ve got popcorn and blankets—”

“No,” Hanzo says, harsher than he really meant to, but right now, he’s at the end of his tether. “I wish to be alone.”

And with that, Hanzo storms off. He doesn’t know if he feels the same as or worse than before he spoke to Dr. Ziegler. While it was unrealistic to think that Jesse would be ready for a chat and wank session right this very second, he _was_ hoping, at the very least, that he wouldn’t be stuck waiting _hours_ for him. 

“Hanzo, wait up.”

“Leave me alone,” Hanzo growls, refusing to acknowledge Genji as he walks in step with him. 

“Please, Hanzo, will you talk to me?” Genji places a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, and Hanzo recoils. He stops in his tracks, gives Genji the biggest scowl he can muster but is immediately taken out of the moment when he realises he’s looking _down_ at Genji. 

These extra few inches of height will always get the better of him. 

“Thank you for stopping,” Genji says, pulling his hand back slowly. 

Hanzo sighs deeply, resigning. “What do you want, Genji?”

“You've barely said three words to me since _this_ happened. You’ve avoided me in person, you’ve ignored my messages.”

“I don’t need your judgement,” Hanzo seethes, storming off. 

“Who said I was going to judge you for what happened?”

Hanzo doesn’t reply, he stops at his door and inputs the code, but it doesn’t open. He must have gotten the code wrong.

“This was an _accident_ , and as far as we know, the first recorded case of someone’s consciousness being swapped with another person’s. You’re not alone here, Hanzo.”

“I have Jesse,” Hanzo mutters, trying the code again, and failing. 

“From whom you have also withdrawn. It’s not healthy for you to isolate yourself.”

Hanzo tries the code a third time, and when it fails, he slams his fist on the door. Every single fibre of his being wills him to scream, to pound and punch until the door is off its hinges, but with each heaving breath he takes, he finds himself fighting tears. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine,” Genji retorts. “Because you’re not.”

The second Hanzo’s eyes lock with Genji’s, the dam bursts. He sighs, pressing his forehead to the door. Tears as they spill down his cheeks. 

Genji gently pulls Hanzo away. He doesn’t resist, assuming Genji’s taking him to his room since his is apparently off-limits. They stop in front of a door, Genji inputs the code, and when it opens, Hanzo sees his room. Genji tries to pull him inside, but he doesn’t move. He looks at the room he tried to get into. 

“Jesse’s room,” Hanzo breathes. 

“Yep.” Genji waves him inside, and Hanzo steps in. “I do hope you’re not _becoming_ him slowly.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “I slowly gain his memories, he slowly gains mine, then one day I cease to exist as I become Jesse McCree.”

“Had you said that a month ago, I would have told you to leave the science fiction stories to those 20th-century writers. Now…” Genji looks at him grimly, a timely reminder that they are in uncharted waters.

It is a ridiculous notion anyway, aside from this brief lapse he has shown no other inclination to believe that he _is_ becoming Jesse. He _wants_ Jesse and Jesse's room is closer to the recreation room. It makes sense that he would gravitate there.

“Well, it is hard not to think about him when I see his reflection in the mirror.” Hanzo looks at his hands. _Jesse’s_ hands. “Or the prosthetic every waking moment.”

“True,” Genji says. He sits on the bed, and Hanzo follows. “I know better than to ask if you want to talk, but I want you to know that if you do, my door is open. It has been painful watching you slip into a deep depression.”

“ _Jesse,_ you mean.”

“You might have Jesse’s face, but it’s in the crease between the brows and your downturned lips. Very Hanzo things _on_ his face which we wouldn’t normally see.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “I suppose after spending years working with Jesse, you can see the subtleties.”

“Like the fact that with Jesse being in your body, I’m sure I've seen your smile more over the last couple of weeks than in your entire lifetime.”

Hanzo pushes Genji away playfully. “I smile.”

“Hardly,” Genji grins. He looks at Hanzo and eases into a smile. “Will you be okay?”

“I _will_ be. I just spoke with Dr. Ziegler about my sleeping issues and she recommended a few things that I could try.”

“Good,” Genji says, patting Hanzo’s shoulder. “We’re all going out to lunch tomorrow, you’re invited, of course. If you would like the distraction.”

“I will think about it.” 

“Good,” Genji says again. “Did you want to hang out now? We could play some cards or go for a walk.”

“I am quite tired,” Hanzo replies. “I was going to have a shower then try one of the things Angela suggested.”

“Meditation?”

“With white noise,” Hanzo says. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, hoping this little white lie is convincing. “She recommended a list of different sounds, all of which are supposed to induce relaxation and a restful night’s sleep.”

“Makes sense,” Genji says, standing. “Let me know how it goes?”

Hanzo nods. He's sure it'll be evident in his mood in the morning; he'll either be a ray of sunshine _or_ he'll be stressed beyond all comprehension it'll be a miracle if he can get out of bed in the morning. 

“Breakfast?”

“Sure,” Hanzo says, blinking back into the present. “You will know immediately if I slept or not.”

“Don’t doubt that for a second,” Genji chuckles. “Have a good night, Hanzo.”

“Good night.”

Hanzo watches Genji leave, and the second the door is closed, Hanzo exhales noisily, falling back onto the bed. Now that he is alone, as he thinks about his routine and Jesse, he feels himself swelling again. His conversation with Angela repeats in his mind, then what he just said to Genji. 

Why _would_ he deny himself a good night’s sleep any longer? It’s affecting his mood so much he was moved to _tears_. And he knows it would be easy, he’s gone so long without masturbating that it would take _seconds_ for him to come. And he won’t look down at himself, either, he can do it with the lights off and his eyes closed. 

It’s less masturbation for the perversion of feeling it in Jesse’s body, more out of necessity to resemble some form of a functional human being. He can’t keep on living on an hour of sleep and carrying tension when he has no _need_ to.

Besides, it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

With his cock straining uncomfortably in his underwear, it’s all Hanzo can focus on. Even if he _wanted_ to wait until the end of movie night, he's sure he wouldn't make it. No amount of distraction could keep him from thinking about the sweet release and blessed sleep.

He stands and undresses, dropping his clothes into the hamper on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t touch himself, not yet; first, he wants to shower. 

His cock, though, is more than ready for bed. Each bump and graze against his arm, the simple act of _washing_ it has it _bouncing,_ demanding more friction. It almost reaches critical mass with the feel of the water hitting it—one or two more moments and it’ll come on its own. Even though he’s doing this with the sole purpose of sleep, he still wants to _enjoy_ it, to feel that sweet endorphin release, to float on a cloud after _weeks_ of feeling like he’s been buried alive. 

He barely dries himself, rushing the towel over his body to get the worst of the lingering water, keeping it in arms reach as he lies on the bed. Taking a slow, steady breath, he says, “Athena, turn off the lights.”

Shrouded in darkness, Hanzo closes his eyes. He thinks about the countless times he went through this same routine, starting with his palms flat on the bed. He moves his right hand over his thigh, that action alone feels like fire kissing his skin. His breath quickens as he rests his thumb against the base of his dick, he moans as he drags it upwards. 

As he takes himself in his hand, he keeps his grip loose. He tugs up, then down, slow and steady, and already it feels _incredible_. Swiping his thumb over his leaking slit on his next upstroke, his hips jump _off_ the bed. 

Sucking a breath through his teeth, pleasure overwhelms him, coiling tightly in his core. He takes himself in a tighter grip and suddenly, he is hit with doubt, a jarring reminder that he is in control of Jesse's body and the cock in his hand isn't his; the difference in girth and that fucking curve _tell_ him that he does not have permission to touch Jesse in this way. 

He rips his hand away, resisting the urge to scream. Focusing instead on his breathing, on the fact that both hands are holding onto the duvet tight, he wills himself to calm down. 

But, of course, his traitorous cock just _begs_ for more attention, twitching relentlessly for that lost friction. 

There is no way he will be able to sleep, not after this. And there is no way he will touch himself without Jesse’s permission. If Jesse values his movies over sex then that's on him. All he needs is quick affirmation that he _can_ jerk off and whatever Jesse does after is up to him.

Reaching for his phone on the nightstand, he types up a message to Jesse: _I need to see you. Now._

“Athena, lights,” Hanzo orders, sitting up. Almost immediately there is a knock at the door. He remains silent for a moment—surely Jesse wouldn’t have been that quick, not unless he was waiting outside his door—

“Hanzo? You in there? You in trouble?”

“No,” comes Hanzo’s strangled response. Every shred of regret is rearing its head, and he has half a mind to tell Jesse that he is fine and doesn’t need anything after all, but he knows Jesse—he won’t take no for an answer, _especially_ after his vague message. 

Grabbing the towel off the bed, he covers himself. That simple act alone, that rubbing against his dick leaves his head spinning. 

He _needs_ this.

“Come in,” Hanzo says. 

It feels like an eternity before the door opens. Jesse steps inside, concern is written all over his face. But as he settles on Hanzo, his frown deepens, and he closes the door behind him.

“What’s happened?”

Biting his lip, Hanzo drops the towel. Jesse’s eyes widen, he meets Hanzo’s gaze. 

“Jesse. _Please_. I _need_ you.”


	5. Experimentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the penultimate chapter, folks. this one earns it's explicit rating 😉

Jesse stands in front of Hanzo’s door, hand poised to knock... but he can’t make himself do it.

“This is stupid, this is _stupid,_ ” he mutters, taking a step back. 

Hanzo made it _abundantly_ clear that he wanted to spend the evening alone. Standing here, interrupting his privacy against his wishes would probably be seen as provocation.

He _wouldn’t_ be here if Genji hadn’t told him about the incident with the wrong room and the subsequent breakdown. Hanzo’s a good fucking liar, excellent at hiding his true emotions; it would’ve been _easy_ to convince Genji that he’ll be fine. 

But no, Hanzo _isn’t_ fine. Jesse could get past the reduced communication, the avoidance, but this… this has so many red flags going off in Jesse’s mind that he’s worried about Hanzo right now. Genuinely worried that he might be hurting, physically and mentally.

Yet, despite his concern, Jesse cannot take the two minutes to just ask if he’s okay.

It can wait till morning. He’ll give Hanzo space, he’ll check in with him in the morning.

Despite it not sitting right with him, despite the fact that tonight will probably be sleepless, spent worrying about Hanzo, Jesse walks away from Hanzo’s door. 

He only makes it three steps before he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Plucking it out, he sees the message from Hanzo in his notifications:

> I need to see you. Now.

“Fuck,” Jesse mutters, racing to Hanzo’s door. A million things fly through his head—something’s happened with the prosthetic. He’s hurt himself, perhaps intentionally. Hanzo is usually pretty direct when it comes to messages but this one hits another level. The urgency of it screams that something has happened.

Without hesitation, he knocks on the door. “Hanzo? You in there? You in trouble?”

Jesse’s ready to knock again when he hears a quiet, unconvincing, “No,” from the other side. He’s ready to knock again, to break down the door to get to Hanzo, when he hears a louder, more insistent, more _convincing,_ “Come in.”

Letting out a breath in a rush, he opens Hanzo’s door. There, standing in front of the bed is Hanzo with nothing but a towel covering his modesty, and the moment their eyes meet, Hanzo drops the towel, revealing an erection that looks hard enough to _hang_ that towel off it.

“Jesse. _Please_. I _need_ you.” 

Jesse feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. It’s one thing seeing himself naked in a reflection, and a complete _other_ to see himself _that_ hard from the other side of the room, without knowing _what_ sordid thoughts are going through Hanzo’s mind. 

It almost makes his head spin. He’s not sure if it’s an existential crisis, or from the sudden rushing of blood to his groin.

He knows it’s one hundred per cent vain, but he looks hot as _fuck_ from this angle. 

Suddenly, Hanzo’s words echo in his mind: _Jesse. Please. I need you._ Over and over. His eyes snap to meet Hanzo’s—to meet his _own_ —and he breathes out, stuttered. 

“Jesus,” Jesse murmurs. He finds his senses quickly enough, though, and a sly smile spreads on his lips. “Whaddya need, darlin’?” It’s a stupid-as-fuck pickup line, but this right _now_ is unchartered territory. It could be the prosthetic giving Hanzo trouble for all he knows. Doesn’t explain the erection, but it might not be what Hanzo’s looking after. 

“I need your _permission_. Please, _please_ …” Hanzo’s fingers flex, his cock _bounces_ , dripping pre onto the carpet below. “I need release.”

Jesse swallows the lump in his throat. “You wanna… jerk off?”

Hanzo nods. Furiously.

Shit. Is _this_ what’s been bothering Hanzo? Has he wanted, _needed_ to whack it?

Who is Jesse to get in the way of _that?_ It’s been a rough fucking two weeks and recently, more often than not his thoughts have drifted to rubbing one out. 

“Okay,” Jesse breathes. His head fills with all kinds of smutty imagery, of dropping his pants and joining Hanzo, of kissing him, his neck, and it’s almost dizzying. 

Hanzo takes himself in a fist. The _relief_ is written on his face—his eyes flutter closed and his mouth hangs open as he tugs shallowly, tentatively, before picking up his speed and _moaning._

Jesse stands there, _watching_ himself jerk it from across the room. It's such a turn on, and while he knows that he has some narcissistic tendencies he should work out, a lingering doubt clouds his mind; he gave Hanzo permission to touch, but Hanzo didn’t permit him to watch.

Hanzo didn’t kick him out either. God, Hanzo would _love_ the feeling of lips on his skin, because _he_ loves the feeling of lips on his skin; and if there’s something he’s learned from the nipple piercing, it’s that _Hanzo’s_ body reacts to it differently to what _his_ own tolerances are.

Clearing his throat, Jesse says, “Hey, easy there. Hold on, a sec.”

Hanzo groans, shooting Jesse a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be dead before he hit the floor. “ _What?_ ” 

“Don’t you think that we could have a little fun with this?” Jesse smirks slyly. “I mean, I can clearly see that you’re desperate for a quick finish, but what if we took our time with it?” 

Hanzo looks about ready to lurch forward and strangle him with his bare hands, but it doesn’t deter Jesse; he closes the distance between them. Keeping his eyes on Hanzo’s, he traces a finger up his arm, over his shoulder and onto his neck. 

“Let me show you what I like.” Jesse has to stand on his toes—Hanzo’s height hasn't bothered him in a while, but it does right this very moment when he wants to whisper into his ear and he can’t fucking reach. “Let me show you what gets me off.”

Hanzo looks down at him, his bottom lip between his teeth. He nods, subtly, and with that, Jesse takes his hand, leading him to the bed and sitting him down. He kneels behind Hanzo, kissing his neck softly, all the way up to the spot just behind his pierced ear. 

“You can touch,” Jesse breathes, watching Hanzo wrap his hand around his cock loosely. He presses his lips to Hanzo’s skin, a little harder than before.

“Fuck,” Hanzo breathes. “Why does that feel so good?”

“Don’t know,” Jesse whispers, making sure his lips ghost his ear. When Hanzo whimpers, Jesse smirks. “Just one of those spots.”

Pressing one last kiss behind his ear, he moves on, kissing the nape of his neck, then behind the other ear. As he shifts, his cock brushes against Hanzo’s back, straining almost painfully in his underwear. 

“We never discussed if I could touch,” Jesse murmurs. 

Huffing a laugh, Hanzo looks at him from the corner of his eye. “I would think we are beyond that at this stage.”

“Just making sure,” Jesse says. His teeth graze his earlobe, and ever so gently, he bites down. 

Hanzo _quivers,_ the grip on his dick tightens. “Tell me, have you been tempted to touch?”

“Every fucking day,” Jesse breathes. “Never did, though. We didn’t discuss it, I wasn’t going to be the one who asked about it on day one.”

“But you thought about it?”

Jesse hums, pulling away from Hanzo. He takes off his shirt, dropping it beside him. “I wanted to ask, or have a conversation about it, but never found the words.” He climbs off the bed, first placing his phone on the nightstand, then pulling down his pants and underwear. He sighs in sweet relief now that he’s not contained. 

He settles on Hanzo as Hanzo’s eyes rake up and down his body. The way Hanzo looks at his own body, as he utterly _devours_ himself, makes Jesse wish he was looking at _him_ in _his_ body like that. He wonders if Hanzo has swallowed up his body with those same hungry eyes.

Letting that thought simmer, Jesse stands in front of Hanzo, and the moment their eyes lock, he drops to his knees. Hanzo's dick _jumps_ and he spreads his legs apart. Jesse shuffles in closer, his hands rest on Hanzo’s thighs and he just looks up at Hanzo, smirking. “How was I gonna ask you if I could jack off in your body? I figured you would’ve slapped me into next week for even _thinking_ about defiling your body.”

“It would have made my time easier to deal with had you asked. Or if _I_ had the courage to ask.”

Jesse can’t help but chuckle. Hanzo wanted to jerk off in his body, which _proves_ that Hanzo is very much into him. “You think about whacking it a lot?”

“Honestly? From the moment I realised I was in your body.”

“Hanzo Shimada,” Jesse says in mock chastisement, “you are one horny fuck.”

Hanzo almost looks _pained_ by the accusation, and he folds his arms over his chest. “I have a routine which involves masturbation—”

“I fuckin’ knew it! Y’know, every damn time I went to sleep I’d— _your body_ —would get hard. Didn’t matter what I thought about to stop it, it was always there. It was a damn fucking distraction, the thing took _forever_ to disappear.”

“I—” Hanzo scoffs, and after a moment he chuckles. “I did not think that my _body_ would react absent _me_.”

“Should let Angie in on it, I’m sure she’d love to study the physiological effects of the human body absent its host.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “I am sure she would enjoy it. But I do apologise. If I had realised that it would be a problem, I would have mentioned it when we discussed our boundaries.”

“Couldn’t have known,” Jesse says. He slides his hands down to Hanzo’s— _his_ —knees, and being here, even though he is looking at his own cock, _even_ from this angle, has molten heat pooling in his core. He’s wanted this, to have Hanzo in his arms, for _so long_ he didn't even realise it until now.

Slowly, he drags his hands up Hanzo’s thighs, digging his fingernails in. Hanzo leans back, his hips practically lift off the bed as he arches into the touch. 

“Although, _if_ you had mentioned it...” Jesse rests his hands at the top of Hanzo’s thighs, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on the insides of them. He absolutely relishes when Hanzo sucks in a breath. “I probably would’ve dragged you back to my room and we could’ve done this back then.”

Hanzo opens his mouth to speak, he takes a breath, but before the words leave his mouth, Jesse takes him in his fist and licks his slit. Whatever Hanzo was _going_ to say dies when he moans, long and low. 

Jesse cups Hanzo’s balls, massages them gently in the palm of his hand as he bobs up and down slowly. He’s turned on, more turned on than he has any right to be given the reality is that he’s sucking his _own_ dick, but he would be lying if he said he’d _dreamed_ about this. He’s tried, lord _knows_ he’s tried, but he never had the flexibility. 

But right now, this isn’t about his _own_ pleasure. It’s about Hanzo’s. It’s about giving him the best damn time possible because Hanzo clearly _needs_ this. This whole situation, swapping bodies, finally has one gleaming positive—no one knows _his_ body as he knows it. He knows his erogenous zones, how much pressure to apply, just how far to go to get the best damn orgasm, so hopefully he gives Hanzo the best fucking time he’s had in a long while. 

Breathing out through his nose, Jesse relaxes his jaw, taking Hanzo deeper and deeper, until his cock hits the back of his throat. His stomach lurches as his gag reflex kicks in, he pulls back lightning-quick, wiping the spit off his chin with the back of his hand, then his teary eyes. 

“Wasn’t expecting a gag reflex that strong,” Jesse groans. “I can turn mine off but it seems you can’t.”

“I cannot,” Hanzo murmurs. “And it is sensitive. Apologies for not stopping you, I was hoping it would not kick in.”

“It’s all right,” Jesse says, taking hold of Hanzo and stroking him slowly. “I suppose this is a learning experience.”

“It is. And I cannot wait to try everything you have done to me _on_ you when we get back into our own bodies.”

Jesse smiles ruefully “ _I_ _f._ ” 

“ _When_.”

“Never saw you as an optimist.”

“More a realist. If this was done in the first place, it can be reversed. We just need to find the answer.”

“Could be years.”

“Could be tomorrow.”

Jesse hums, standing on his knees. There's no point conversing, there's no point lamenting the fact he may never suck a dick ever again. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting some release after almost a month of nothing. If he'd known this was going to happen, he would have rubbed one out the morning of the mission.

He presses gentle kisses along Hanzo's chest, up to his collarbone, then onto his neck, grazing his teeth against the skin. Hanzo shudders, his hand tangles in his hair, pulling slightly. The pressure on his scalp feels _amazing_ , more than it normally would, and Jesse's eyes flutter closed as he sucks a hickey into his skin.

All too soon, Hanzo's hand drops to Jesse's shoulder, his hand settles around his wrist. “Can you—” Hanzo stops short and Jesse pulls back. “Can you use your left hand?”

Jesse chuckles, looking at the hand wrapped around his dick. Then, he switches hands, Hanzo’s tattooed arm resting against his thigh. The angles might be wrong, but _this_ is hot as _fuck;_ way hotter than he imagined. “Want me to go behind you?”

Hanzo meets his gaze and nods, and Jesse settles behind Hanzo again, pressing his body against his back, making sure his cock is sandwiched between them. He reaches around with his left hand, taking him in his hand and stroking slowly.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t usually use my left,” Jesse says with a chuckle. 

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t tried.”

“Oh, I’ve tried. Just get better dexterity in my right.”

Hanzo hums, his head falls back on Jesse’s shoulder. “Still feels good.”

“Given how desperate you were, I’m sure dry humping the bed would feel good.”

“I should tell you…” Hanzo looks at him from the corner of his eye. “I um… woke up after a particularly erotic dream and… well.” 

Jesse smiles wide as Hanzo's cheeks redden. “Never thought I’d see _you_ so speechless, Shimada. _Especially_ over a wet dream which you really have no control over.”

“I don’t have them because—”

“You choke the chicken on the regular. I get it.”

“I—Don’t _ever_ use that metaphor again.”

“Fair enough. You just like to flog the dolphin every night and that's okay,” Jesse says with a cheeky grin, winking when Hanzo glares at him. “May I ask when you had the dream? I wanna know how long you lasted before the sex dreams started.”

“ _Dream_. And it was on Monday morning.”

Jesse thinks back to Monday. Hanzo was probably at his lowest, the scarce moments he was wandering around base he wouldn’t look anyone in the eye, he _dodged_ Jesse like he was a carrier of a disease. “It all makes sense now.” 

“Don’t look so amused, I was embarrassed.”

“It’s fine, really.” Jesse tightens his grip, he kisses Hanzo’s neck again. “I wouldn’t have minded had you told me that you jerked off outright.”

“I almost did.”

“Tonight?”

Hanzo hums. When Jesse picks up his speed a little, Hanzo's hips jerk, he gives a little gasp. Jesse leaves his round of questioning there; every noise that Hanzo makes has molten heat pooling in his core. He wraps his other hand around Hanzo’s torso, holding him tight. 

Hanzo reaches back, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling back, and Jesse moans. Hair pulling never did anything for him, but it seems Hanzo _loves_ it. And why wouldn’t he when it feels _this_ amazing?

“Fuck,” Hanzo mutters, his head falls back against Jesse’s shoulder again. “I’m almost there.”

“Come for me,” Jesse says, his lips ghost Hanzo’s ear. “Let go.”

Hanzo groans, he quivers, he grabs fistfuls of the duvet. He pushes back against him, and Jesse can’t help but grind against Hanzo, getting off on the friction. Kissing and licking and sucking Hanzo’s neck, behind his ears, he doesn’t stop until Hanzo _shouts_ when he comes. 

Jesse slows his tugging but continues through Hanzo’s orgasm, come dribbles down his hand. He milks Hanzo for every last drop until the only sound left between them are their steady breaths. 

Hanzo turns his head, and Jesse leans in, kissing him. It isn’t until he feels the soft slide of Hanzo’s tongue that he realises that it’s _his_ tongue and that he is essentially kissing himself. 

It turns him on more.

Hanzo twists his body, his cock slips from Jesse’s grasp. He pushes him down onto the bed without breaking off the kiss, but too soon he dots kisses along his jaw, onto his neck and chest. He continues down lower, right for his pierced nipple—

“No, please don’t—”

Hanzo looks up at him, a wicked smirk spreads on his lips. “You will like it.”

“I—” Jesse looks into Hanzo’s eyes. “I _know_.”

“Let me guess. The gym on that second day?”

Jesse groans, scrubbing his right hand down his face. “You knew?”

“I know what I sound like when I moan, especially if it’s in _pleasure_.”

“Fuck,” Jesse chuckles. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been awkward.”

Hanzo shrugs. “It honestly turned me on.”

“And yet, it took us this long to get here.” 

Hanzo hums, and while keeping his eyes fixed on Jesse’s, he kisses his chest. “I’m curious. Did you play with it again?”

“Hell no,” Jesse says. “That _thing_ has been the bane of my existence since. It just made me _more_ acutely aware of how sensitive it is, and how _good_ it felt, which takes us back to you killing me for defiling your body. _How_ do you put up with it?”

“I’ve had it for two decades, I’m used to it.”

“I had to get tape from Angie just to fuckin' function. You got lucky that it wasn’t pissing me off today.”

Hanzo doesn’t reply, he continues kissing Jesse’s chest, each press of his lips leaves feels electric against his skin. Once he reaches the swell of his pec, Hanzo slows, glancing up at him. “Do you trust me?”

Jesse looks into Hanzo’s eyes and is suddenly taken out of the moment. They’re four very simple words, something that has been said, time and time again in briefing rooms or on missions. But here, now, they shake Jesse to his very core. Before now, trust was out of necessity—Hanzo is a damn good agent, and while sometimes his methods are a little unorthodox, Jesse has learned to truly trust Hanzo. It’s gotten them out of trouble, time and time again.

But now, said in the confines of the bedroom, with nothing more than a hair’s breadth between them, the true gravity of Hanzo's words settles on him. Jesse might be looking into his own eyes but behind them, he can see Hanzo’s; he can see just how much weight these words carry. 

“I do,” Jesse breathes.

Hanzo moves slowly, starting with a gentle kiss to the side of the nipple and so far so good. The sensitivity Jesse has been experiencing has been bordering on _excruciating_. The slightest rub against his shirt served to remind him that the piercing was there, that its singular purpose was to be played with. Tape at the start became a staple, but in the last couple of days, he was starting to adjust to life with it. 

Now, though, it's on a whole new level. It’s not the fact that it’s Hanzo’s body reacting in a way that makes him enjoy this, it’s Hanzo’s cautious, exploratory nature. The first kiss on the nipple has about the same pressure he used when he tugged on it back in the gym bathroom, and he can feel it send a jolt of pleasure right to his dick. Another press and Hanzo meets his gaze. The question remains unspoken, it doesn’t _need_ to be spoken.

 _More?_

Jesse nods, and this time, Hanzo licks his nipple in one long, slow movement. He _moans_ in pure pleasure—it’s like there is a direct line connecting his nipple to his dick. Jesse might have his own erogenous zones but _none_ of them feels like _this._

If he weren’t already lying down, he’d collapse into a boneless puddle with how _amazing_ it feels. 

Hanzo licks again, this time with more pressure. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, he looks up at him as his tongue pokes through the piercing, tugging gently. 

Jesse groans, his stomach _drops_. He isn’t sure if he’s come or not, but he doesn’t think he’s seen an image that sexy in his life. His pulse thrums in his ears, his hips buck, grinding against Hanzo’s torso and he vows to remember _that_ for _when_ they get back in their bodies. 

But right now, Jesse needs _more._

The moment the pressure on the piercing lessens and Hanzo lifts his head, Jesse tangles his fingers in Hanzo’s hair, holding him down and keeping him in place. 

“That good?” Hanzo murmurs, lips fluttering against his skin as his eyes flick to meet his. 

“Fuck, yes,” Jesse says. “But I want you to go rougher. Your body is _screaming_ at me to tell you to go rougher.”

“That’s because I like things rough,” Hanzo replies, voice low and sexy. “Especially when doing this.” Hanzo wraps his hand tightly around his cock, and Jesse bucks into his fist when Hanzo flicks the tip of his tongue _hard and fast_ against his nipple. 

Jesse utterly _writhes_ under Hanzo, scrunching a hand through his hair, fisting the other in the duvet. It’s been too fucking long since he’s had any release. He might not stick to a routine or a schedule, but some mornings he takes full advantage of his morning wood and starts his day on the right page. _Not_ having that option anymore, _and_ coupled with Hanzo’s night boners, it has made for a long, _hard_ three weeks.

He moans again when Hanzo grazes his teeth along the skin of his pec. He’s so fucking close, he can feel molten heat utterly _overflowing_ in his core. Experiencing pleasure in someone else’s body is more of a turn-on than he realised, _seeing_ himself _on_ Hanzo’s body is hotter than it has any right to be. 

“Fuck,” Jesse groans, his hips buck wildly as Hanzo _sucks_ on his nipple. Even though he's stopped tugging, he’s so _close_ that stars burst in his vision. But it isn't enough to push him over the edge. “Fuck, I’m so fucking close.”

Hanzo lets go of his cock, then, he sits up, and when Jesse glares at him, he grins, utterly _beams_ from ear to fucking ear as he takes his pierced nipple between his thumb and finger and pinches, hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick, hard enough to yelp in pain. 

Then he twists it, and _that_ is enough for the coil to snap. Hips bucking uncontrollably, he comes untouched, all over his stomach. After what seems like an eternal orgasm, he falls flat on the bed and breathes out, looking between the streaks of white on his torso and Hanzo’s smug-as-fuck grin. 

Wordlessly, Hanzo picks up the towel from the floor, lies on the bed next to Jesse and wipes him clean. Jesse just watches on, catching his breath, basking in the best fucking afterglow he’s experienced in a long damn time. Hanzo tosses the towel into the bathroom, slots himself beside him, pulls the blankets up to their chests and tells Athena to turn the lights off. 

Jesse just huffs a laugh, slides an arm under Hanzo’s head, hand cupping his shoulder and holding him close. He kisses the top of his head and closes his eyes.

He could absolutely get used to this.

* * *

Jesse wakes slowly, settling on the tattooed arm in front of him. 

It’s become an achingly familiar scene, the new part to his morning routine: Analyse the detail of the tattoo, map each scale, every bolt of lightning for as long as it takes so he can walk around without a boner he’s sure never left him from the night before. 

Just like the mornings before this one, he wriggles his fingers to confirm that he is indeed still in Hanzo’s body, and this morning is no exception. 

Fuck, he misses being himself. It’s not just the morning jerk off sessions or the lack of dairy. It’s the little things—indulging in a half bottle of whiskey and a trashy novel, or relaxing out on the cliff’s edge and smoking a cigar from start to finish. Hell, any kind of smoking. He’s chewed his way through several pens, toothpicks, paperclips, anything he could get his hands on and shove in his mouth to keep it busy lest his cravings kick in.

Sucking a dick last night scratched that itch in more ways than one, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it _should_ have been. He supposes he’ll have to teach Hanzo’s body to tolerate sucking a cock, because _fuck_ , just _hearing_ the desperateness in his partner’s moans when he deepthroats them is like _heaven_ , and he’ll be damned if that is taken away from him, too. 

Rolling onto his back, he settles on Hanzo. Well, his own face with Hanzo occupying it. It’s so fucking weird, seeing himself like this, breathing out of time with his own breaths. Hanzo looks out cold, though, and if what he said last night was true, that he was only running on _hours_ worth of sleep over the last week, then he might be out cold for the rest of the day. 

He hears a single, quiet _ping_ , and he reaches out, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. There are _several_ messages from Genji. 

> [19:47]Is everything okay?
> 
> [20:23] Hanzo’s not responding to me either. Either he killed you then himself in a fit of rage or you’ve finally fucked. 
> 
> [20:24] Please don’t tell me if you have fucked. I don’t need that mental image scarring me for the rest of my life. 
> 
> [23:02] Well you missed all of movie night. 
> 
> [23:09] I should tell you, as your best friend who has only your best interests in heart, that Lena asked Athena where you were, and she said Hanzo’s quarters. It’s been three hours and they’re convinced you’ve fucked. 
> 
> [02:30] I need you to know that they’ve spent two hours theorizing about who-did-what and wanted to text you in their very inebriated states for details. I have tried to derail the conversation several times and i am running out of patience. If they text you, know that I had nothing to do with it. 
> 
> [08:17] If you get this before Hanzo, tell him it's okay he missed breakfast. You’re apparently still in his room so I'm going to go soak my brain in bleach now. 

Jesse huffs a laugh, placing his phone back on the nightstand. When he looks back at Hanzo, he knows he wants to spend his day in here, talking and catching up and maybe even another cheeky round of sex. Hanzo has distanced himself from him especially over the last week since Baptiste said Sombra had no leads, and the high from their date has made him reach the lowest point he thinks he’s ever reached. 

The one person who _gets_ what he’s going through shut him out, and it hurt like hell.

But that doesn’t matter now, not after last night. Finding out the root cause of Hanzo’s sleep issues stemming back to not being able to jack off because he held too much respect for him to ask to jerk it in his body is all kinds of endearing. The fact that he was the object of his affections is damn cute, and he is glad that the feeling is mutual. 

As to _why_ Hanzo didn’t say something in the first instance, way back when this all happened, or even _before_ all this, is the answer to a question Jesse is curious about. 

Jesse knows _he_ could have said something. He's had several opportunities to, but he deemed it not worth it. He saw first hand the type of relationship Reyes and Morrison had, they fought and fought, but loved even harder. In the end, though, it grew toxic—Gabe kept going over Morrison’s head, and it didn’t matter _what_ Morrison said or did to bring him back in line, Gabe thought he was invincible, untouchable because Jack would just let him off the hook because they fucked way-back-when.

But that was them. He knows that _if_ he pursued a relationship with Hanzo he wouldn't _let_ it end up in ruins like Gabe's and Jack’s, and he sure as shit wouldn't let Hanzo abuse their relationship to get his way. Despite that, though, he’s not entirely sure he _wants_ someone in his life right now. Sure, he’s attracted to Hanzo. Sure, he’s wanted to suck his dick for _months_ now, another conquest in a long line of hot conquests, but honestly, he’s still reeling from the realisation that he _is_ in love with Hanzo.

Love for a teammate on this level is new. Could he make that kind of commitment? 

If there's one thing he knows for sure, it's that love is a very fickle thing. His heart was broken once, and he’s not sure he could survive that again. 

At this stage, he’d be happy to keep things casual. Friends with benefits is a nice place to be in, that way if it goes belly up then no feelings are hurt. He hasn't declared his love for Hanzo, and probably won't for a long time, but at least he'll be able to temper them without the guilt of knowing Hanzo's heart was hurting.

However, _if_ feelings develop naturally and _if_ it is mutual, _then_ Jesse will consider his next steps. But he’s gotta be head over heels and he needs to know it goes both ways. Until then, no feelings, no hopes, no disappointments. 

Hanzo stirs in his sleep, he groans as his eyes open slowly. His eyes settle on the roof, then on Jesse, and after a moment he smiles softly. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’.” Jesse reaches out, sweeping his hair aside. “Sleep well?”

“The best I have slept since this whole ordeal began.”

Jesse hums, propping his arm under his head. “Good to hear.”

“I will admit… I had thought that if I slept longer than ten minutes that I would wake up in my body.”

“Wish that were true,” Jesse says with a sigh.

“Any word from Winston?”

“Nope. Although I got a string of texts from Genji. You might’ve too, but everyone thinks we’ve fucked.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “Let them. It is the truth.”

“Except we kind of fucked ourselves.”

“We haven’t _fucked_ fucked,” Hanzo says, voice low and dangerous that sounds oddly hot given Jesse is hearing his _own_ voice. “Would you be interested?”

Jesse can’t help but smirk. “Now who’s the narcissist?”

“I jerked myself off last night and I fucking _loved_ it. I want to know what it’s like to _fuck_ me.”

Jesse’s sure it’s a joke. They just woke up, he figured they’d at least _chat_ about the last week, maybe have some breakfast before negotiating their next session to fuck. But as silence stretches and Hanzo’s eyes grow more expectant, waiting for an answer, Jesse knows he is one hundred per cent serious. “Now?”

“My bathroom is your bathroom. You will find everything you need under the sink.” Hanzo leans forward, planting a kiss on Jesse’s lips. “I will get us breakfast and give you some privacy.”

This is what Jesse has wanted. Who doesn’t dream about being able to fuck themselves? To feel their own dick inside them. But as much as he wants to scream _yes_ , all he can muster is a meek, “Uhh…”

“If that is okay.” Hanzo shifts back, frowning. “You do not have to say yes.”

“No.” Fuck, he didn't mean to say that either. _Fuck_. “I mean yes. Oh my God, no it’s not that. I _want_ that. I’m rock fucking hard right now. I just wanna stay in here and fuck and sleep and fuck again, and forget that the damned outside world exists. We’ve been thrown into the shittiest situation known in existence, and _finally,_ we’re together. I just... thought we’d debrief or something first.”

“You want to debrief?" Hanzo looks at him, lips twitching like he's fighting a tide of laughter. "Like this was a mission?”

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut. “No. Forget it, it was ridiculous.”

“Yes, _sir_.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Hanzo says sultrily, his hand shifts under the blanket, taking hold of his cock and tugging.

“Go,” Jesse says, groaning as he pulls Hanzo’s hand free. “Get us some food, we’ll spend the day eating and fucking and sleeping.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Hanzo murmurs, cupping Jesse’s face and kissing him. “I will aim to be an hour. I should apologise to Genji, and that should give you ample time to prepare.”

“Gotcha.”

With one final peck to Jesse’s lips, Hanzo _flies_ out of bed, ducking into the bathroom. He pisses, washes his hands, picks up the neatly folded sweats and t-shirt from his desk, putting them on. He gives Jesse one last glance as he puts on his slippers sitting by the door.

"Hey," Jesse says, and Hanzo looks back at him. "Maybe... Don't mention that we've slept together. I know they might already know, but I'd rather try to keep it under wraps for now."

Hanzo nods his head and leaves.

Jesse stares at the closed door for a moment. That was the biggest whirlwind he’s ever experienced. He pulls the sheets off him, eyes the darkened patch of pre on the bed. 

The thought of being fucked by his own dick shouldn’t be as big a turn on as it is, but _fuck_ , he is _eager_ to feel it. 

Hanzo hit the nail right on the head—this is a once in a lifetime situation, if they _don’t_ fuck in each other’s bodies, then what’s been the goddamn point of all of this?

* * *

Two plates, coated in crumbs, sit stacked on the nightstand two empty mugs beside them. 

It started with a kiss. Jesse’s nerves were oddly through the roof despite wanting nothing more than this. When he closed his eyes, it felt good, felt right—like he was back in his own body. 

Hanzo gently rolled him onto his back and laid on top of him, slowly grinding against his thigh. His hands wandered his body, he focused on the nipple again, kissing and gently licking it while the other hand wrapped around his dick. Hanzo wanted to show him a good time. It’s not very often Jesse gets to sit back and be at his partner’s mercy, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

Then his hand moved lower. Slick fingers pushed inside him; one to start, then two. Hanzo was just as slow, just as gentle, every slight graze against his prostate pushed him closer and closer to the edge. 

Jesse shook his head at the offer of a condom. It didn’t matter—they can’t get _more_ intimate than being in each other’s bodies. He decided to stay on his back, to watch Hanzo as he pushed inside him. Feeling his own dick stretch him open felt like any other dick if he is being honest, but _seeing_ his body over himself made every single movement, every single inch taken to another level.

Right this very moment he is being fucked by himself, and he feels like he should be creeped out by it but Hanzo's onto something—this is fucking hot.

Bottomed out, Hanzo holds still. A deep frown pinches his brows, his head hangs low. Jesse reaches out, sweeping his hair out of Hanzo’s eyes, cupping his face, gently kissing his forehead. 

Hanzo hums, rolling his hips _ever_ so slightly. Jesse moans and Hanzo is right beside him, practically panting. 

“I want to stay like this forever,” Hanzo murmurs, “but I am _so close_ to coming.”

Jesse cannot help but smile. “Been a while?”

Huffing a laugh, Hanzo picks up his speed. His head dips lower, kissing Jesse’s chest, making his way to his pierced nipple. The second Hanzo’s lips close around the hardened bud Jesse’s hands fly to the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the duvet tightly. He feels that rope connecting the nipple to his dick again, and each sensation, the wetness from his mouth, the caress of Hanzo’s breath sends white-hot pleasure coursing through him. 

When he feels Hanzo’s hand close around his cock, he moans. It all feels so _different_ than he’s used to, every movement, every touch is heightened. He’s getting off on things that wouldn’t normally get him off. He wants to hold on, to roll Hanzo onto his back and ride him but at the same time, _this_ feels so fucking good, being at Hanzo’s mercy as Hanzo utterly has his _way_ with him is such a fucking turn on.

He hasn’t experienced sex like this in a long damn time. He prefers kisses and lovebites and _marking_ his lovers, making sure _they’re_ having a good time before he gives in himself. He supposes it comes with his size and personality—when in the mood to share his bed he makes his intentions _very_ known, and any partner he is with tends to let him take control. The difference with Hanzo is that he has a bigger personality, a bigger presence, and letting Hanzo have the reigns is actually really fucking nice. 

Hanzo moans and shudders. His forehead presses to Jesse’s chest but he keeps thrusting, keeps pounding into him relentlessly—

Their phones chime. Both at the same time. Hanzo doesn’t stop, the only indication that he can hear the shitty little jingle is his growl. Jesse glances at his phone on the nightstand. He should check who it is if both of theirs are ringing it could be news on their current predicament. Or it could be bad fucking news that requires all hands on deck.

“Don’t,” Hanzo says. “It can wait.”

Jesse nods, cupping the back of Hanzo’s head and pulling him into a searing kiss. He swallows down Hanzo’s moans as he roughly turns them, pressing Hanzo into the mattress. Hanzo slips out of him but after a quick moment, he sinks with a shuddering exhale. He takes hold of Hanzo’s hands, pinning them above his head. Hanzo’s shown him a good time, now it’s his turn to return the favour. 

Sweeping down, Jesse kisses his neck. He focuses on that one sensitive spot right on the junction of his neck and shoulder, kissing and licking and grazing his teeth against it, and Hanzo responds _exactly_ how he wants him to, with desperate moans and wild bucking. Jesse sucks a hickey right into that spot then makes his way down lower, to his left pec. More teeth grazing, another hickey, and Hanzo is moaning so _loud_ now, Jesse is sure anyone walking past the room would hear him. 

The prosthetic hand slips from his grasp, Hanzo grips onto the metallic frame of the bedhead. With his hand free, Jesse wraps it around his dick but he doesn’t tug, he just gives himself a bit of tightness to work with. Pleasure utterly crackles through him, his hips jerk.

Hanzo’s eyes are on his dick, burning hot with desire. Hanzo takes back his other hand, flying to Jesse's chest as he tugs on the piercing again, and that’s all Jesse needs to push him over the edge, coming on Hanzo's chest. Hanzo groans, he bucks into Jesse so hard he’s almost lifted off the damn bed. Then, he hears the telltale _squeal_ of metal bending, and Hanzo’s bent one of the beams out of shape. Hanzo doesn’t seem fazed by it, not as he _shudders_ beneath him, riding out his high. 

Taking a breath, Hanzo settles back down. He drops the prosthetic hand, and in its place is scrunched metal that’s decidedly imprinted with finger marks. 

It’s been a _long_ time since the prosthetic has been responsible for the destruction of a bed, and Jesse is utterly tickled by it.

Hanzo’s eyes open, he smiles as he settles on Jesse, then on the bedhead. “Whoops.”

“Ain’t a first,” Jesse murmurs, sweeping down. He kisses Hanzo, slow and sensual, cupping his face. 

Their phones chime again, and Jesse sighs through his nose, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. Sitting up but staying right on his dick, he reaches over, picking up his phone. “It’s Winston,” Jesse breathes, his stomach flutters. “‘Good morning. I’m happy to report that we might have found what caused you to swap bodies, and simulations are successful. At your earliest convenience, please meet us in the lab to discuss further.’” He looks at Hanzo, excitement utterly courses through him.

“Fuck,” Hanzo breathes. He runs a hand through his hair and utterly _beams_. “Fuck.”

Jesse smiles wide. “This could be it.” God, it better be, if this is a failure then he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep going in Hanzo’s body.

Hanzo lifts himself on his elbows and Jesse meets him in another kiss. “We should shower.”

With a nod, Jesse sends back another text: _Meet in thirty minutes?_ He places the phone on the nightstand, looks down at Hanzo, giving him one last peck on the lips. “Better not keep them waiting.”

* * *

The lab is more crowded than Jesse would like. Winston, Satya, Torbjörn, Brigitte, Angela and Baptiste greet him and Hanzo as they enter the room.

It’s not that he _doesn’t_ want this team here to help, it’s just a _lot_ of faces that look at them in different ways when he and Hanzo walk in at the same time; there's complete obliviousness from Winston, Angela and Brigitte smirk slyly, Baptiste gives them a quick nod then focuses his attention to his tablet, and Satya and Torbjörn look downright indignant.

If Genji’s string of texts is anything to go by, then they all potentially know that they’ve slept together. Jesse shoos that thought away—it doesn’t matter what they think, all that matters is that in a few short moments, they could be back in their own bodies and life can return to normal.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Jesse says. “What’s the news?”

Satya takes a step forward, smiling wide. “Coronal mass ejections.”

Jesse frowns. “Come again?”

“Coronal mass ejections, otherwise known as intense solar flares,” she replies. “They emit electromagnetic radiation and we think that disrupted the teleporter.”

“But you ruled out an EMP,” Hanzo says.

“We did because an EMP would have fried the system.” Satya turns to her side, gesturing with an extended arm towards a monitor. “A burst of electromagnetic radiation from a solar flare was detected in the atmosphere at the same moment you stepped through the teleporter. We hypothesise, that at the moment you stepped through, there was a disruption in the signal between the two teleporters, resulting in the switch.”

Jesse frowns. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“I do believe it was _you_ ,” Satya says, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest, “who did _not_ want to know _how_ the teleporter worked to transfer you from one point to another.”

“It's not like a doorway, you know? Your molecules get pulled apart—”

Jesse raises a hand, cutting Torbjörn off. “I would like to continue to _not_ know how it all works.” He glances at Hanzo and Hanzo shrugs nonchalantly.

“So what’s the plan?” Jesse asks, directing his attention to Satya and Winston.

“Simulations show,” Winston says as Satya loads a video file, “that if we hit the teleporter with the same energy output from that solar flare while you’re in the stream, it should switch you back.”

“Do we have to wait for the destabilization?” Hanzo asks.

“No,” Satya answers. “It was just a coincidence that it happened as it was failing.”

Jesse nods, glancing at Hanzo as he studies the video when it loops. “So what’s the best course of action?”

“We’ve set up two teleporters in the hangar,” Satya replies “It’s as simple as hitting it with the same low-level electromagnetic radiation after you step through the teleporter, but before you come out at the destination.”

“That’s instantaneous though,” Jesse says. “What if you miss?”

“We won’t miss,” Torbjörn says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Athena will be overseeing the project,” Brigitte adds. “She’ll activate the EM pulse when the time is right.”

“A’ight,” Jesse breathes. “And you two,” he looks between Angela and Baptiste, “for when we step through?”

“One doctor each,” Baptiste says. “We want to make sure your recovery on the other side is seamless.”

Jesse hums, considering the plan. If simulations are successful, if Winston and Satya believe this is the answer, who is he to question it? “Okay, I’m sold,” Jesse says, looking at Hanzo and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You?”

Hanzo nods. “All there is to do is try. We either come out of the teleporter ourselves or still in each other’s bodies.”

“Or we form a freakish blob with two heads,” Jesse says with a chuckle.

“I can guarantee that won’t happen,” Winston says. “If you’re ready…”

With a nod, Jesse follows Winston out of his lab with Hanzo by his side. He knows half the base is behind them, but he can’t help but grab Hanzo’s hand and squeeze it tight. He feels like he’s being taken away to be executed, on their final march to the gallows, rather than the end of this entire ordeal and sweet liberation from the confines of Hanzo’s body. He wants this to work. He _needs_ this to work. While a part of him wants it more for Hanzo’s sake than his own, he’s at the end of his tether. He _likes_ smoking and drinking and not counting the literal millilitres of milk and cream he’s had with his coffees. He wants to eat a big bowl of ice cream and fucking deepthroat again.

At the same time, though, he is dreading stepping through. It was one hell of an ordeal, literally being on death’s door entering the teleporter and then suddenly fine on the other side. _Seeing_ his body crumpled on the ground through Hanzo’s eyes will be something that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

But now, at the very least, neither of them are dying. Coming through on the other side might not be as traumatising, especially with Hanzo by his side.

They enter the hangar, Jesse’s eyes are drawn to the teleporter pad in front of them, then the destination pad on the other side. Winston, Satya, Torbjörn and Brigitte approach a nearby console, Angie and Baptiste make their way to the other teleporter.

Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s hand tighter. “How’re you doing?”

“Nervous,” Hanzo breathes, looking down at him. “But at least I am not carrying you through.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to come through with you conscious.” 

“We’re ready,” Winston says.

Jesse takes a breath, lifting Hanzo’s hand and kissing the back of it. “Now or never.”

The teleporter shimmers to life, it’s eerie blue glow greets them.

“The path is open, the stream is stable,” Satya says. “When you’re ready.”

Jesse meets Hanzo’s gaze, nodding when he does. His stomach flutters fiercely as he takes those three steps to the teleporter, as he is engulfed in electric blue.

Then, everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to end the fic with this chapter, but figured, why not throw in one more cliffhanger? XD


	6. Return to Normality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, nerds

“Ha—? —nzo? You’re okay, just breathe.”

Hanzo presses his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. He is inundated with sensory input: a deluge of blinding white light and taste, touch, smell, elation, sorrow, anger. His ears ring, he feels nauseous. He has experienced this feeling only once in his life—

He forces himself to open his eyes. Waiting for his vision to come into focus, he looks at his right hand first, moving his fingers. He has control of his body at least. He takes a shuddering breath as he moves onto his left. Either he will see Jesse’s prosthetic, or the familiar blue ink, and based on the way he is feeling right now, it can only mean one thing.

Taking a shuddering breath, his eyes shift to his left hand. Flesh and blood, his arm engulfed in his tattoo, and he sobs, falling to his knees.

“Easy there.” A gentle hand settles on his shoulder. “Just breathe.”

Hanzo forces himself to take in a deeper breath. It settles the dragons, and requesting calm, they quieten down, allowing the rest of the world to come to him slowly. He can understand their apprehension, their excitement, their anger at being caged, even though it was their decision, made for Jesse’s sake. If Jesse had experienced this at any point, odds are he would not have been able to handle it and they would have been released into the world, uncontrolled, untethered.

He wraps a hand around his wrist, over the dragon’s maw, as his gaze shifts to Baptiste, crouched on the ground in front of him. “Apologies,” he rasps.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Baptiste says. He offers his hand, and Hanzo takes it, standing on shaky knees. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, glancing at Jesse as Dr. Ziegler tends to him. He’s frowning, but when their eyes meet, he smiles. Hanzo smiles back. “Yes.” 

“All right, I’m just going to check you over,” Baptiste says, checking his pulse, blood pressure, and his eyes. “Blood pressure is a little higher than normal, but still within healthy parameters. Given the stress of swapping bodies, it’s understandable. You should be back to your normal self in a few hours.”

“If either of you starts to feel worse,” Angela says, “then come see us right away.”

“Sure thing, doc,” Jesse replies. He lifts his leg, humming as he frowns. “Yep, I can definitely feel that I’ve been shot.”

“And you still need to take things easy.” Angela gives him a stern look, then levels Hanzo the same stare. “ _Both_ of you.”

Hanzo, for a brief moment, thinks about arguing that he has spent the last fortnight taking it easy. He barely got a workout at the gym and the training range was too much after Jesse's long limbs refused to cooperate. But she is right, and he and Jesse did have plans to spend the day in bed.

Training and exercising can wait a day or two.

“We will,” Jesse says. He looks at Hanzo. “I feel like we should uh… _debrief_ or something.”

Hanzo’s lips quirk slightly at the playful tone in Jesse’s voice, and just what he means by _debrief_. “It might be a wise idea.” 

“Actually,” Dr Ziegler says, putting a screeching halt on the growing tightness in his pants. “I would like to monitor both of you for the next hour or two.”

“Angie,” Jesse whines, “We were fine—”

Dr Ziegler raises her hand, and Jesse snaps his mouth shut. “Your bodies have undergone immense stress _twice_ in a short period of time. Either spend an hour with me or I’ll confine you to sickbay for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Okay,” Jesse says meekly.

Hanzo merely nods. It makes sense that Dr Ziegler would want to monitor them, that they couldn’t go off and fuck all day.

Just two hours. She will give them a clean bill of health, then he can fuck Jesse into the mattress.

With a smile, Hanzo turns, addressing everyone as they approach. “Thank you for finding the answers to reverse this accident.”

“Of course,” Winston says. “We can’t really afford to have two agents out of commission now.”

“Absolutely not,” Jesse says, then he sighs in relief. “It’s goin’ to be _so good_ to get back out there again.”

“I would recommend another week on base,” Dr Ziegler says. “Just to be sure.”

Winston nods. “A wise idea.”

“Sure thing,” Jesse says. “Plenty of time to adjust back into our own bodies again.” Then he nods. “Thank you, all of you.”

After a chorus of, 'don't worry about it' and 'of course', Dr Ziegler clears her throat. “If you’ll excuse us." 

Hanzo bows his head as he leaves the hangar, walking in step with Jesse.

Just two hours.

* * *

Six hours.

That’s how long it took to be in the confines of his room, and Hanzo lets out a groan of utter relief as he steps through the door.

They spent two hours in the medbay and as expected they were fine. Dr. Ziegler arranged an hour’s worth of work out time tomorrow, light exercise just to make sure everything is one hundred percent. When that was over they had lunch and were accosted by _everyone_ to talk about what it felt like to be in each other’s bodies, if they were glad to be back to normal, if there were any unexpected positives or negatives about the swap.

Hanzo kept things brief, highlighting his excessive dairy intake which he admitted he will miss, while Jesse talked and talked and _talked_. It was ridiculously easy to get lost in every single word and that low timbre of his voice, to let them wash over him and settle on him like a warm blanket. For once, he wasn't ashamed by the resulting erection—Jesse _is_ his, and as soon as he found the will to stop talking, he would drag him back to his room and put it to good use. 

Now, Hanzo pins Jesse to the wall, taking his hands, weaving their fingers together and holding them above his head. He slots a thigh between his legs as he kisses him rough, hungry, rolling his hips and grinding his cock against Jesse's hip, getting off on the friction. Sleeping with Jesse last night _and_ this morning was one thing; a necessity, satisfying curiosity. This is something wholly different. _This_ is doing _exactly_ what he has wanted for an entire fucking year, to have Jesse be at _his_ mercy, whining and begging and _moaning_ under his touch.

Hanzo grazes Jesse’s bottom lip with his teeth gently, dotting kisses along Jesse’s cheek to his ear. “I had imagined this scenario,” he whispers, making sure his lips ghost the shell of his ear. He smiles when he feels Jesse’s stuttered exhale against his skin. “You were wet, though.”

“That day in the training range,” Jesse murmurs. “When I got soaked. Caught you staring, drinking me down like a tall glass of water that entire afternoon.”

Hanzo hums, biting down on Jesse’s earlobe gently and is rewarded with the jerking of Jesse’s hips. “I thought about you that night.” He kisses his neck. “About what I wanted to do to you.” He continues lower, down to his clavicle, grazing his teeth against bone as he feels Jesse _quiver_. “What I _would_ have done if we were alone.”

“Glad to know I kept you company that night.”

Dragging his hands down Jesse’s arms and onto his chest, Hanzo lifts Jesse’s t-shirt. As his hands glide over his abdomen, he allows himself to finally _enjoy_ the feeling of bare skin meeting chest hair. He kisses Jesse’s chest, biting down on the meat of his pecs with enough force to leave indents. Just yesterday this was forbidden—something he _refused_ to even think about lest he gave himself false hope of switching back and being met with bitter disappointment.

Now, though... now it’s a joyous reality.

Jesse lifts his shirt over his head and sighs through his nose as his hand settles on Hanzo’s head. He gently tugs out the hair tie, his fingers comb through his hair before grabbing it in a handful. Hanzo’s eyes slide closed when Jesse pulls firmly and he rewards Jesse with a hickey sucked right into the meat of his pec. The more he sucks the harder Jesse pulls, the faster Jesse’s hips grind against his leg.

Breathing in Jesse’s smell and allowing himself to get off on it, Hanzo slides a hand into Jesse’s sweatpants, wrapping his hand around Jesse’s cock. It doesn’t compare to that day when they baked in the sun, where Jesse was at his sweatiest, but it’s enough for now—he has a fucking intoxicating smell and it’s particularly strong now.

Jesse moans quietly, his head drops to Hanzo’s shoulder. It’s not the best angle but he works with what he’s got, kissing as close as he can get to behind Jesse’s ear. It seems to be enough when Jesse grabs a fistful of his shirt, he pulls back on his hair, almost tipping Hanzo's head back, and moans, hips bucking wildly. For a brief moment, Jesse’s entire weight is pressed into him, and Hanzo pushes him into the wall harder, only slowing his tugging when he feels come seeping through his t-shirt. 

Jesse takes in a deep breath, lifting his head, and Hanzo captures his mouth, meeting him in a soft kiss. They part when Jesse exhales, and in that moment, the air is supercharged between them as Jesse slips a hand under Hanzo's shirt, settling over his pierced nipple. 

“My turn,” Jesse breathes, flicking his thumb across the piercing. 

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Hanzo is pushed backwards, falling onto the bed. Jesse, in an instant, is between his legs, hands on his knees as he spreads them apart. Hanzo sits up, sliding off his t-shirt and dropping it on the floor, suddenly weak under Jesse's gaze.

“Been wanting to do this for so long,” Jesse breathes, dragging his tongue up Hanzo’s abs, all the way to his chest. He kisses every single inch of skin, grazing his teeth against goosebumped flesh, sucking hickeys. Hanzo's chest is a minefield of red marks by the time Jesse makes his way to the piercing, licking over it with the flat of his tongue.

Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Hanzo watches as the tip of Jesse pokes the tip of his tongue through the piercing. Hanzo always _knew_ Jesse would look _hot_ doing it, but fuck, his imagination was no substitute. The redness of Jesse's cheeks, the playful glint in his eye, the smirk, the perfect amount of pull… as he wraps his legs tightly around Jesse’s waist, pleasure crackles through him, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

Jesse closes his lips around his nipple, and Hanzo gasps. He then peppers kisses down his chest again, his abs and pelvis. Hanzo keeps his eyes locked on Jesse when he kisses lower, over his clothed bulge. Cock twitching, Hanzo holds onto the duvet tight as Jesse slides his fingers into the band of his sweatpants, pulling them and his underwear down. Jesse's gaze snaps to meet his as he licks the underside of his cock. 

“Been thinking about blowing you for months,” Jesse says, humming when he licks over his slit. “Was all I could think about when I saw you hard for the first time.”

Anything Hanzo thinks about saying dies in his throat as Jesse swallows him down. He leans back onto his hands, closes his eyes and _enjoys_ the suction, the licks, the tightness of Jesse’s throat. Not many people are into deepthroating and he feels like he’s struck gold with Jesse—not just the fact that they’re _finally_ together, but that he is dangerous, he’s willing to make the tough calls, he doesn’t hesitate to get the job done, no _matter_ the job.

Jesse is his equal, and not many people live up to that standard.

As Jesse pulls up, Hanzo feels the gentlest of grazes of teeth against his glans. Hanzo moans, his hips lift off the bed, and if he were sitting upright he would push Jesse’s head back down. 

“Knew you’d be into teeth,” Jesse murmurs, levelling him with a sly, _sexy_ smile. He takes Hanzo in his fist, tugging. “Come in my mouth, I wanna taste you.”

Hanzo nods, and when Jesse’s lips wrap around his shaft, Hanzo rests a hand on top of Jesse's head. Jesse is quicker, rougher now, his teasing lips and tongue are now set in a single purpose: to _suck_ the orgasm out of him.

Feeling the tightness of Jesse’s throat again, his nose and forehead pressed against his pelvis, Hanzo moans. He grabs a handful of Jesse’s hair, resisting the urge to buck into his mouth when Jesse massages his balls. The moment Hanzo feels the press of fingers on his taint it’s all over; he hunches forward, his eyes squeeze shut as he comes.

Jesse pulls back as he floats down from his high, Hanzo gasps every time his tongue drags against his sensitive slit. He’s mostly back to his senses when Jesse dots kisses up his body again, and by the time their lips meet once more, he has the ability to kiss back just as ferociously, tasting himself on Jesse’s tongue.

Sighing through his nose as Jesse pulls away, Hanzo looks into his eyes. “I could get used to this.”

“You and me both,” Jesse says, smiling softly. “What do you wanna do now?”

“Sleep.” Hanzo drapes his arms over Jesse’s shoulders. “Rest will be absolutely required if I am to ravage you later.”

Jesse chuckles, a rumble deep within his chest, and Hanzo smiles; he loves that little laugh. “Sounds like fun. Don’t think Angie would approve though. She did say nothing too strenuous.”

“I won’t tell her if you won’t,” Hanzo winks.

* * *

It’s almost ten p.m. when they wake up.

Hanzo would stay in bed, cuddled up to Jesse for the rest of the night if one, he didn’t need to piss, and two, he wasn’t famished. As gently as he can, an attempt not to wake Jesse, he climbs out of bed, quietly makes his way to the bathroom. Switching on his light he squeezes his eyes shut at the brightness, opening them a sliver as he approaches the toilet. He pulls his cock from his underwear and aims in the toilet, closing his eyes when he hears the stream hit the water and bracing himself against the wall in front of him.

He hears the telltale _clang_ of metal against the tile.

“No,” he says, opening his eyes and seeing Jesse’s prosthetic holding him upright. He looks down at himself, at his hairy chest, at the cock which is decidedly _not_ his.

Taking a shaky breath he finishes pissing and races for the mirror.

He sees Jesse’s face looking at him. 

He screams—

“Whoa, Hanzo, it’s okay.”

Gulping down air, Hanzo looks at Jesse, face fraught with concern. He realises then that he's lying down, he feels the soft bed underneath him, the blanket in his hands. Willing himself to relax, he holds his arms in front of him, eyeing his tattoo, and he wraps his hand around the dragon’s maw, squeezing tight; confirmation that _he_ is in control of his own body. 

“Fuck,” Hanzo whispers, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck is right,” Jesse says, sitting back on the bed and placing a hand on his chest. “Damn near gave me a heart attack. Must’ve been some nightmare.”

“Yeah,” Hanzo says, getting up out of bed. He heads for the bathroom, turning on the light as he stares into the mirror, sighing in relief when he sees his reflection. His nerves are frazzled, anxious energy thrums through his veins. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, feeling the dragon's calm wash over him, he splashes his face with cold water. It's not very often he has a nightmare powerful enough to wake them.

Trying to push it out of his mind, he glances at his reflection again just to be sure, then once more after he dries his face. He is himself, it was only a nightmare. Switching off the light, he enters the room, lying back on the bed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jesse asks, holding out his arm.

“No,” Hanzo says, settling beside him, resting his head on his shoulder. He takes a calming breath when Jesse wraps his arm around him. “I'm okay. It was nothing.”

“Sure as shit didn’t seem like nothing,” Jesse says, kissing his head. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

“I gotta ask though…” Jesse trails off, and when it becomes apparent he’s not going to continue, Hanzo looks up at him. “This ain’t common, right? These nightmares?”

Hanzo shakes his head. “It has been a long time since I suffered from a nightmare.”

“Aight, ‘cause ah…”

“Because…” Hanzo prompts.

“Because I was thinkin’ of—that we can, well, y’know…”

Hanzo narrows his eyes. 

“If you’re wantin’ to that is, that maybe we could share a living space?”

“You want to…” Hanzo smiles, he feels that bloom of warmth in his chest again. “Live together?”

“Yeah, like I know we’ve been friends for a while and we kinda admitted that we think about each other when we...” Jesse makes a jerk-off motion with his hand and Hanzo scoffs a laugh. “I don’t see us not fucking going forward and why fuck around with different rooms when we can just share one?”

“I would like that,” Hanzo says, wrapping a possessive arm around Jesse’s waist. Then Jesse's stomach rumbles, so visceral Hanzo _feels_ it. He picks his phone up from the nightstand, it's 7:43 p.m. “Dinner?”

With a nod, Jesse kisses the top of his head again. “Got something I wanna take care of first, but thirty minutes?”

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Hanzo looks at Jesse, splayed out on his back. Their eyes are locked, Hanzo smirks dangerously as he plunges two fingers inside him. Jesse’s cock rests heavy on his thigh, pre drips down his leg.

Jesse’s thirty-minute detour turned into an hour. Which was fine, it just meant that Hanzo could prepare them a dinner other than quick sandwiches. The moment Jesse entered the kitchen Hanzo knew that something was different, that he was _hiding_ something. He walked a little looser, had this sly little smile on his lips, and had a noticeable bulge in his sweats. He doubts anyone else noticed—a lengthy conversation with Baptiste and Lena over dinner proved that it didn’t hit their radar but Hanzo knew.

They left the mess hall as soon as they finished eating by Jesse’s insistence. He practically raced back to his room and Hanzo followed inside, the semi which was present throughout dinner growing harder and harder with each step he took.

Jesse was on him the moment the door closed behind Hanzo. A tight embrace, a bruising kiss, proof that Jesse’s motor was well and truly running. Hanzo grabbed his ass, squeezed tight, and the moment Jesse moaned, he knew. He undressed him between kisses, shifted him to the bed, laid him on his back and there, saw the base of the black plug which he was stuffed with.

Hanzo’s eyes shift to the toy, the at-least eight-inch cock sitting on the bed beside him. He should have guessed that Jesse was _this_ adventurous, and if Jesse is willing to wear a plug to dinner, perhaps they can take _other_ activities out of the bedroom.

Without getting carried away by the thought of _actually_ jumping Jesse in the training range, Hanzo places his hands on Jesse’s thighs. “Turn over.”

With a wink, Jesse rolls over, propping himself up on his hands and knees. With his cock resting against Jesse’s ass, he swipes up the lube and prepares himself. Spreading Jesse’s cheeks, he sweeps his cock up and down his crack, relishing when Jesse quivers beneath him. 

Wrapping a hand around the base of his dick, Hanzo lines himself up, pushing in slow enough to see Jesse stretch around him. Jesse’s head falls to his closed fists, Hanzo sucks in a breath, Jesse's tight and warm and feeling him through his own body makes this a thousand times hotter than this morning.

Bottomed out, Hanzo places a gentle hand on Jesse’s hip, pushing down. Jesse lays flat on the bed and Hanzo lies on top of him, resting his hands on top of Jesse’s. He kisses the nape of Jesse’s neck, thrusting slowly, minutely as he makes his way to the spot behind Jesse’s ear. 

Jesse groans, he pushes back against Hanzo. Hanzo takes it for the invitation that it is, he thrusts a little harder, licking a stripe up Jesse’s neck, then biting down on his earlobe gently.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jesse breathes, he pushes back harder against Hanzo, and Hanzo takes his weight off him. “Sorry. Wasn’t gonna last much longer like that and I’m not ready for this night to be over.”

Hanzo hums, dragging his hands onto Jesse’s back. “Was there something you wanted to try?”

“I wanna sit in your lap. Try out some of the things I learned about you.”

With a smirk, Hanzo pulls out. He waits for Jesse to sit up then swaps with him, propping the pillow up against the bedhead and sitting on the bed. Jesse straddles his hips, Hanzo rests his hands on Jesse’s thighs as Jesse sinks down on him.

Jesse holds still as he cups Hanzo’s face, kissing him softly. He rolls his hips gently, and suddenly, the energy shifts—this isn’t about rough sex anymore, this is softer, tender. Hanzo is thrown back to their conversation about living together and feels that warmness in his chest again. He has spent the last year lusting for Jesse, but if there’s one thing this whole ordeal has proven, it’s that he is in _love_ with Jesse.

Hanzo sucks in a breath when Jesse kisses along his cheek. He wraps his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, hands flat on his back as he meets him with each minute thrust. 

Jesse shifts his hand to Hanzo’s pec, palm resting over his pierced nipple. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t tug, he holds still as he moans quietly in Hanzo's ear. After a long moment, Jesse moves his hand, swiping his thumb over the hardened bud. Hanzo gasps, he kisses Jesse’s chest.

He tugs the piercing gently, Hanzo’s hips buck. Hanzo dots kisses up Jesse’s neck, and when he tilts his head back, Hanzo presses his lips to the column of his throat. He wraps his hand around Jesse’s cock and Jesse moans, he rocks his hips with a little more force.

With each passing moment, each thrust, each moan, the warmth in his chest spreads outwards, enveloping him. Nothing in his life has felt more clearer, he's never felt this way about anyone before. He sees a future, his future— _their_ future—a quiet life beyond Overwatch. He never had a death wish but felt he deserved it after everything, but now, _now_ he has something to live for, someone to _fight_ for.

Jesse moans quietly, Hanzo feels the rumble on his lips. He takes hold of Jesse's chin, gently tugging his head down. His lips graze against Jesse's as Jesse tightens around him.

"I'm close," Jesse whispers, kissing Hanzo before pressing his forehead against his.

Hanzo hums, feeling the pressure low in his gut. "Me too. Let go."

Capturing his mouth again, Jesse breathes out through his nose, stuttered. His hand settles over Hanzo's around his cock, squeezing tighter. Hanzo's eyes slide closed, he cups the back of Jesse's head, hair spills between his fingers as Jesse's breathing grows deeper, as he tightens around him, as he feels that first wet spurt against his chest—

Hanzo moans as the pressure reaches critical mass and explodes. He holds onto Jesse tight, breathing in sync as he floats down from the high and into this shared afterglow. He doesn't move and neither does Jesse for the longest of times.

But there, between quiet breaths, he hears a whisper: "I love you."

Hanzo smiles, pressing his lips to Jesse's temple. "I love you too."

Jesse embraces him, holding him tight as he kisses him, passion igniting. Hanzo could live in this moment forever; joined as one, in _this_ new afterglow.

But Jesse _is_ quite heavy. 

"Shower and bed?"

Jesse hums, sitting back and looking him in the eye. "Sounds good. Although I've been meaning to ask, you gonna keep up your _routine_ now that we're together?"

Hanzo cannot help but smile. "With you by my side? No, I don't think I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's that!!
> 
> honestly, i'm surprised that i got this one out. like i said, i stalled HARD on it and was ready to throw it into the abandoned fics pile when trusty ol' spite reignited the flame.
> 
> i knew this ending would be happy and sappy and Softe™ but when it came to writing it, i thought up two more endings, one kind-of angsty but gets to the same point and the other full-blown angst with a sort-of happy-ish ending. if i had written the ending prior to this week and tagged appropriately for the sad ending, it would be here instead of this one. maybe one day i'll release these into the world ;)
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this silly fic. your comments inspired me to keep going, and your love for this story and lamenting of those cliffhangers were true highlights. makes me want to start up another multi-chapter fic i've been promising for a little while now.
> 
> anyways, until then, i'll be shitposting on twtr dot com.
> 
> all my love,  
> Chillie <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) and [PillowFort!](https://www.pillowfort.social/ChillieBean) Come say hi!


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